


Slapped With The Truth, Kissed With A Lie

by bloodreddahlia



Series: Slapped With the Truth, Kissed With A Lie [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 44
Words: 90,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodreddahlia/pseuds/bloodreddahlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One fateful night Sansa meets the man who will change her life forever - her future uncle Petyr Baelish. He is handsome, he is charming, he is a bit of a bad man. Who could possibly resist? Little could Petyr predict that he is as powerless to resist as she is. Will their relationship survive his lies, his deceits, their doubts and insecurities? Or will they be torn apart by a rejected sociopath and a woman scorned?<br/>All characters remain the property of the exalted GRRM. I bow down to his genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Voice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I have ever written for public consumption and I do not have a beta so please forgive any errors which are wholly my own. This is unashamedly non-canonical , particularly Petyr's character arc which becomes increasingly OOC. I die for the concept of a nice fluffy Petyr hiding under that cold calculating exterior *sighs*. I make no apologies as I shamelessly play with GRRM's beautiful shiny toys for my own (and hopefully your) gratification. I would welcome any comments/feedback should you wish to leave them. The early chapters have no smut but I promise I'll make up for it, my little lovelies :)

Sansa skipped down the stairs from her bedroom with an uncharacteristic vigour born from the thought of a weekend away from the horrible school her mother had transferred her to at the start of the week. If it was even possible she detested King’s Landing High even more than she had disliked her previous school – her classmates were largely obnoxious, ignorant, over-privileged snots who seemed to delight in torturing her at any and every opportunity. 

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. She had been befriended by a smart, beautiful, slightly older girl called Margaery who seemed to detect the sad insecurity in her and had kindly taken her under her wing. Margaery was the type of girl who commanded respect. She was sharp witted, confident, and came from a very wealthy and powerful background but remained seemingly unaffected by it. She was charming, poised, very put together – everything that Sansa aspired to be but feared she never would be.

She couldn’t help but feel awkward and storkish next to Margaery. Where Margaery was all womanly curves and natural vivaciousness, Sansa felt gangly and stringy, too tall and cursed by a mane of thick flame red hair. Every day she would be assailed by hoots of “hey Ginger” and “Fire Crotch”, but Margaery would simply twine a strand of her auburn hair around her fingers comparing it with her own honey brown and tell her that it was beautiful and unique.  
“I think I’ll dye my hair brunette. I hate it like this,” Sansa would sulk.  
“Don’t you dare! You are gorgeous the way you are. Don’t listen to those jealous morons. If you dye your hair I won’t speak to you again. I mean it!”

She hated most of her classes but English class was the highlight of her day. Apart from being her favourite subject and the one that she continued to excel in, she was intrigued by a blonde boy who sat towards the back of the room. He was tall and slim with penetrating glassy blue eyes and sharpish but not unattractive features. He had stared at her with naked appraisal when Mrs Turner, the teacher, had introduced her to the rest of the class and then winked at her when she took the seat in front of his. She hoped and prayed that the furious blush that had crept across her face at his undisguised inspection would be put down to her shyness in front of the class and not as a reaction to him specifically. She eventually discovered that his name was Joffrey Baratheon, eldest son of the CEO of Kingsgate International, a multi-national banking corporation with its headquarters near Old Gate. He had yet to speak a word to her but he would always smirk at her or wink as she took her seat. Maybe on Monday she would pluck up the courage to speak to him – maybe.

As she neared the foot of the stairs, Sansa became aware of two voices floating through from the lounge room. Her mother had the phone on speaker and was conversing with a man whose voice she was certain she had never heard before. The voice was smooth and silky, soft and with a gentle lilting quality that mesmerised her. Sansa stopped in her tracks and lowered herself to sit on the steps, intrigued and curious, especially as she began to realise that their dialogue concerned her. She was usually late out of bed on a Saturday so clearly her mother had not expected her to be up and about so early this particular morning.

 

“It’s been really hard on her. I’m really worried about her. Arya has always been the stubborn strong one and she seems to be coping but Sansa is more sensitive.”  
She bristled at that.  
Typical. Arya gets to be the toe-rag running around all over the place causing trouble but I am quiet and keep to myself and I am the problem child.  
“She really took Ned’s passing badly,” her mother continued. “She was such a daddy’s girl. Her grades are slipping and she seems really down after her first week at the new school.”  
“It must be difficult for her losing her father and then having to contend with a whole slew of new classmates as well,” replied the mystery man.  
“And knowing some of those brats, I don’t envy her,” he added.  
Sansa nodded vigorously to herself impressed with his insightfulness.

“I need your help. Since Robb and Jon left last year, Sansa has no older male figure in her life. She seems very lost. And I am so worried about her senior year grades – her Maths and Economics results from last year were very poor. I was hoping that moving her to a new school with such a good reputation would help but I think I might have made a huge mistake.”  
Sansa winced at that but could not deny the truth of it. Maths and Economics had never been her strong points. She had always had to put so much more time and effort in to achieve the grades and now she just didn’t seem to care.  
“What can I do Cat?”  
“I know you are incredibly busy but is there any possible way you could maybe spend some time with her? I was thinking you could tutor her after work… I don’t know…. Maybe once a week? The subjects she is failing in are your specialty after all.”  
There was silence from the other end of the line.  
Oh my God, Mom. You can’t be serious. Now I am going to be babysat by some stranger who will feel obliged but doesn’t really want to be here. Unbelievable. Just what I need.  
Eventually the mystery man responded.  
“Cat, you know I would do anything for you and the kids but are you sure that would be a good idea? The last time I saw Sansa she would have been about 9 years old. She doesn’t even know me and we both know how Ned felt about me. It doesn’t seem right somehow.”  
Now Sansa was truly intrigued. Who was this man who was obviously close to her mother but who had been no friend of her father’s? Her mother sighed sadly.  
“Ned is not here but one thing I do know is that he would want what is best for his children. I really think you could make a difference. And besides, it’s not as though you are going to be a stranger to the kids for much longer. Petyr, you will be their uncle soon enough once you marry Lysa.”

Sansa gasped in surprise. She clapped her hand over her mouth, fearing that her mother may have heard her but she detected no reaction. The pieces of the puzzle finally came together. This must be Petyr Baelish. She did not remember him from the childhood meeting he had just mentioned but she did recall the name from past conversations between her parents. She also recalled that her father had seemed to resent the man but for what reason she could not fathom. She was not sure what the relationship had been between Baelish and her mother exactly either – she believed they had been brought up together for a time in the same household along with Aunt Lysa but she had no concrete details beyond that. And he was going to marry her aunt? This was getting stranger by the minute.

“I don’t know Cat.”  
“Alright what about this? Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner, if you’re free, of course. It will just be Sansa and myself – Arya has a sleepover at a friend’s. You can get to know each other, see if it feels comfortable and take it from there. If you don’t think it will work out, I won’t say another word about it. But if you could come tonight at least, I would really be grateful. Please?”  
There was a slight pause before the man replied, chuckling. Sansa enjoyed the sound: deep and raspy.  
“I could never say no to you Cat. Of course I’ll come.”  
“Six o’clock?”  
“See you then.”  
“Oh and Petyr…. thank you.”

If Baelish responded Sansa did not catch it as she bolted back up the stairs before her mother terminated the call. A few moments later she sauntered as nonchalantly as she could back down to where her mother still sat, staring absently at the phone.  
“Hi Mom. Mom? Earth to Mom…Hello.”  
“Oh sorry dear. I was miles away. You’re up early.”  
“Who was that on the phone?”  
“That was an old friend of the family, Petyr Baelish.  
An old friend of yours Mom, not necessarily Dad’s, she thought.  
“Sansa, come and sit here for a moment.”  
She moved to sit next to her mother who took one of her hands in hers.  
“Sansa, Mr Baelish is going to be marrying your Aunt Lysa. I should have told you before but things have been a bit all over the place lately. It should be a very good match. They are compatible in age, lifestyle, they both have strong careers and want the same things.”  
“Does he love her, Mom?”  
Sansa had never been a huge fan of her Aunt Lysa. She was all angles, severity and sharp edges with cold slits for eyes and thin cruel lips; her hair was red like her mother’s but wispy with a murkier, darker tone that was unflattering to the pallor of her gaunt face. Her Aunt’s touch was a talon grip, so unlike the warmth and gentleness of her mother’s, her temper volatile, her words biting and at times unkind. What would the man who would marry such a woman be like and why would he choose her? She didn’t like to think about it too much. But even though she could not say she exactly loved her aunt, she was still family and she would not see her hurt by some unscrupulous bastard in it for the money or social position or whatever this was all about.

“At heart Mr Baelish can be a very kind and generous man, Sansa. He is a little reserved and he can come across cold at first; his humour is very dry and definitely takes some getting used to. In business he can be quite ruthless. But underneath it all, he is a good man. I trust him.”  
“You didn’t answer the question, Mom.”  
Her mother squirmed and seemed to measure her next words carefully.  
“I am sure that he has affection for her. They have known each other for years. When his parents died my father made him his ward. For a time we were all living together but eventually we all went our separate ways. I know that Lysa had a real soft spot for him back then. They are at a point in their lives where a marriage like this could be very beneficial for them both.”

Sensing that her mother was dodging her question and that she was unlikely to receive a more satisfying response, Sansa changed tack.  
“So why are you telling me this now?”  
“Sansa, I have asked Mr Baelish to come to dinner tonight. I would like for the two of you to get to know each other better.”  
“Why Mom? What about Arya? She should get to know her new Uncle too.”  
“And she will, darling. But I have also asked him to help you with your Maths and Economics subjects – he works in an executive role in the financial industry so it’s right up his alley. It would be nice if you met each other beforehand, relaxed over a meal, had a chat.”  
“Mom, seriously?”  
Sansa had tried to sound as surprised and outraged as she could, finishing with a pronounced pout of her lips.  
“Please Sansa. You need help and it is not a weakness to ask for it. Just for a little while until you get back on track. It would really help me out: one less thing for me to worry about. It was very nice of him to agree to help. Just give him a chance; I am sure he will grow on you.”  
As much as she was intimidated by the idea of spending time with this unknown quantity of a man, Sansa hadn’t thought about it like that. Her mother had been under tremendous stress since her husband’s death. On top of having to settle all his affairs and look after a young family, she worked a busy job with long hours as a PA at a local legal firm. She could see that the stress lines around her mother’s eyes had deepened and she did not seem as energetic as usual these days. If she could lighten the load in any way she would, even if it meant having to put up with this stranger towards whom she felt a growing distrust and unease although why that should be the case she was unable to articulate.  
“Sure Mom. Let’s see how it goes.”


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the second chapter ready to go; just a couple of tweaks. Hope you enjoy the first meeting of our little pets.

The day seemed to drag on interminably. Late in the afternoon Sansa finally completed her homework assignments and began to think about dinner. With the memory of Baelish’s arresting voice echoing in her head, she moved over to her wardrobe and opened the door, flicking through her clothes with paralysing indecision. She would wear her go-to blue and white spot dress but suddenly it looked immature to her – too cutesy. T-shirt and jeans - too casual. Slacks and a blouse – she wasn’t going to an interview, or perhaps she was if her nervousness was anything to go by. Why was she suddenly so confused and apprehensive? She rarely obsessed about her appearance, being resigned to the fact that she was decidedly unremarkable in every way and that spending excessive time and money on clothes and makeup would be a wasted endeavour.

She shook her head, slightly irritated with her own insecurities and finally settled on a short black mechanical knit skirt – not too short but short enough to accentuate her long slender legs, pairing it with an azure blue short sleeved silk blouse that highlighted the colour of her eyes. She chose a pair of black flats; as a tall girl she did not feel the need to supplement her height with heels. They only made her feel like a giraffe on skates anyway. Sansa stripped off to her black satin and lace underwear and changed quickly into her new outfit. Seating herself at her dresser mirror she picked up a brush and stroked it slowly through her long hair until it glistened and cascaded down her back in a red river. She generally didn’t wear much makeup but on this occasion her one concession to vanity would be a swipe of pale pink lip gloss. She reached for the tube, looked up at the mirror and with vision afforded by the new angle of reflection suddenly spied a male figure leaning against the doorframe to her room, arms crossed, staring at her intently, his lips curled up in a smirk.

Sansa gasped, dropped the tube in fright and spun from the chair to face him.  
“Good, you don’t need that, you are perfect as you are.”  
As shocked as she was by this sudden and unexpected manifestation she recognised the soft smooth timbre of his voice immediately.  
“Mr Baelish,” she stuttered. “How- why are you up here? How long have you been standing there?”  
Sansa fidgeted nervously with a strand of her hair and bit at her bottom lip in anxiety.  
“Your delightful sister let me in. She said she had somewhere important to be and ‘later Pops’ or words to that effect. I called out but no one answered so I took the liberty.”  
Sansa groaned inwardly at Arya’s rudeness and was prepared to apologise on her behalf but thankfully the man seemed more amused than insulted. Where was her mother? She must have popped out for a last minute shop before dinner.  
“And to answer your other question,” he continued with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I have been standing here precisely long enough to fully appreciate the view.”  
He smirked at her, his eyes narrowing as the blood rushed to her face.  
After a pause that could have been an hour or merely a few seconds he moved gracefully from the doorway and further into the room sweeping his arm towards the bedroom window at the now darkening vista beyond.  
“You are fortunate to wake up to such a lovely view every day.”  
He chuckled softly.  
Mom. He is not a nice man. Oh God did he see me in my underwear? I want to die. 

Through her acute embarrassment and discomfiture Sansa nevertheless took a moment to assess this man who would become her uncle. He was not a very tall man but lithe and toned in build. He wore a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that accentuated his elegant facial features. Apart from the smattering of grey at his temples his hair was black and immaculately styled, his face smooth and youthful but for tiny laugh lines at the corner of the eyes and mouth. He looked quite young for his age; he must be in his early 40’s to be Lysa’s contemporary but he bore his years well. He wore black trousers, shirt and a blazer that moulded to his body perfectly, the textiles and his leather shoes obviously of a very high quality. She was struck by the shape of his hands that he now clasped in front of him: elegant like a woman’s with strong slender fingers that were adorned with silver rings. And his eyes – grey green in hue, sparkling, intense and hypnotic. He wore a small sardonic smile that dimpled his cheeks but his smile never quite reached his eyes – they remained cold and inscrutable as they bore relentlessly into her. He wasn’t her type and of course, he was way too old for her but she couldn’t deny that he was handsome and she did find him unsettlingly attractive. 

She suddenly realised that he was quite aware of her now overly prolonged scrutiny. He had tilted his head slightly to the side as he regarded her with a bemused expression.  
“Are you enjoying the view as much as me?”  
She did not think that it was physically possible but she felt her face flush even hotter than it had before. She could not hold his gaze any longer and dropped her eyes to the ground. As if sensing her awkwardness and perhaps thinking he had pushed things too far, he made his way slowly over to her and extended his hand.  
“Come now my dear. Let us introduce ourselves properly. I’m Petyr Baelish. But if we are to be friends I would like you to call me Petyr.”  
“Sansa Stark….Sansa,” she stammered. Then remembering her manners, “I am very pleased to meet you.”  
She was still too abashed to look him in the eye as she held out her hand somewhat tremulously. He reached out and enveloped it in a warm, gentle squeeze that was more of a caress. She felt a tingle from his touch and a strange fluttering in her belly at the contact. Instead of releasing her hand he touched her fingers to his lips and gently brushed against them. She could feel how soft and warm his lips were and the slight tickle of his facial hair against her skin. She held her breath and looked up at him, feeling yet again that unfamiliar but pleasant yearning in the pit of her stomach. His unreadable expression never changed and his smouldering eyes never left her face.

“Delighted my dear. I would know you anywhere, Sansa, even though you were only a little thing the last time I saw you.”  
Releasing her hand he gently took hold of a lock of her hair and twirled it delicately around a long forefinger.  
“You are so much like your mother was at the same age.”  
She was acutely aware at that moment of how close together their bodies were as she stared fixedly into his eyes; her breathing became more rapid, shallower as she registered the heat radiating from him. She could smell his breath – an intoxicating manly blend of spices, wine and mint. She wanted to tear herself away from him but she was also struck with an inexplicable impulse to run her fingers through the greying hair at his temples, touch his face. A sudden panic welled within her as she realised the direction her thoughts had taken.

 

Drawing a deep breath she moved away from him, disentangling the strand of her hair from his fingers.  
“I am not my mother, Mr Baelish.”  
“Petyr. Please call me Petyr. I am fully aware that you are not your mother, Sansa.”  
He stepped closer and spoke conspiratorially, a small smile on his lips.  
“May I let you in on a little secret but you must swear not to tell her or it will not go well for me?”  
Captivated and intrigued despite herself, Sansa nodded. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, his hot breath wisping over her earlobe and her throat causing an involuntary shiver.  
“From what I was lucky enough to see today, you are a lot more beautiful than your mother ever was.”  
Despite the flattery Sansa glared at his impertinence and what she perceived as a slur against her mother who she considered one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, her obvious bias notwithstanding. She pulled herself up to her full height which, she was gratified to note, made her slightly taller than Baelish, keeping her voice firm and steady.  
“I would thank you to be a bit more respectful to my mother and to me. You shouldn’t even be here alone with me like this and you most certainly shouldn’t be saying those things to me.”  
His expression was a mixture of shock, genuine amusement and what looked suspiciously like pride but why he should be proud of her she could not fathom. After a moment he shook his head gently and chuckled.  
“You are perfectly right my dear. I am certainly old enough to know better. Please forgive me. Can we start again? I promise to behave myself in future, unless of course you grant me permission to do otherwise.”  
He smirked and winked at her.

Although she was by now somewhat exasperated, her mother had warned her about his sense of humour so she decided to let his last statement ride. She wasn’t used to him so maybe she just needed to cut him some slack.  
Play his game Sansa. Stop being a baby, give him some payback.  
She smiled at him sweetly and ever so lightly touched his elbow. He seemed to tense momentarily; a muscle ticked at the side of his mouth and his eyes darkened or perhaps she had just imagined it. She hoped it was real; the notion that she could have had an effect on him, any effect however small, inwardly pleased her.  
“Should we go downstairs now Mr Baelish? My mother must have popped out but should be back shortly.”  
“What is it going to take for you to call me Petyr?”  
“Well, I was going to ask about that. You are going to marry my Aunt so shouldn’t I be calling you Uncle Petyr?”  
“I am not married to her yet, dear. Perhaps when I am and we are with the others, you should call me Uncle. When we are in private, you can call me by my first name.”  
“If it makes you happy, Petyr.”

At the sound of his name on her lips he turned to face her.  
“And would you like to make me happy Sansa?” he asked his voice soft and low.  
Her heart skipped a beat before she collected herself to answer him, intoning his name as seductively as she could.  
“Of course, Petyr.”  
His usual mask of inscrutability seemed to slip and she saw a new emotion writ there but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. But just as quickly as it had appeared it evaporated leaving her to ponder if it was just a figment of her very overactive imagination or wishful thinking. Wishful thinking? Why should she wish anything of this man? He was confusing the hell out of her. With her hand still at his elbow she steered him out of her room and towards the staircase.


	3. Getting To Know You (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written in two parts (the second part to come soon) as it was getting a little long. Thanks for the kudos.

As Sansa and Petyr descended the stairs, the phone in the lounge room began to ring. She released his elbow and raced down the remaining stairs to grab the phone.  
“Hello…Mom? Is everything alright; where are you? .... Oh. Damn. That stupid useless thing. Will you be alright there on your own? .... Are you sure? We can come and pick you up. I am sure Mr Baelish won’t mind. Okay…. Yeah. I’ll tell him. Give me a call when they turn up so I know it’s all cool. Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

Great. Just great. Now I am stuck with Mr Smartarse over here with the wandering hands on my own. Can this evening get any worse?

“Is something wrong, Sansa?  
“My Mom’s car broke down. I swear that thing is the Antichrist. I told her she should get a new one but Dad bought it for her years ago so I think she is having a hard time with the idea of ditching it. Anyway, she’s waiting for roadside service and then she will make her way home. She said to say sorry that she couldn’t be here right now.”  
“We should go and pick her up.”  
“I did offer, as you heard, but she said it would be fine and she doesn’t want to leave the car where it is. It might need to be towed. Honestly, I wish she would just leave it there. With any luck someone would steal it but then I would feel really bad for the thieves.”

“So, just the two of us then,” Petyr mused.  
“Looks like it.”  
“Disappointed?”  
He smirked at her as he waited for a response.  
“Not if you stick to your promise to behave yourself.”  
“You are no fun Sansa Stark. We will have to see what we can do about that.”  
She glared at him but then relaxed into a laugh despite herself. He really was quite charming, in his own way.  
“Good luck. Thousands have tried.”  
He moved forward to grab her hand in a quick squeeze releasing it straight away, nothing like his earlier touch. She found herself strangely disappointed.   
“That is the first time I have heard you laugh. Please don’t make it the last. It’s lovely. It suits you.”  
She blushed and smiled shyly at him, moving quickly towards the kitchen.  
“Come on then if you want to be fed, I’ll have to see what I can rustle up.”

Sansa wanted to kick herself. She hadn’t thought to ask her mother what she had planned for dinner. Luckily when she opened the fridge it was well stocked.   
“Pasta okay?”  
“I’m sure whatever you make will be great.”  
“Flatterer. You haven’t even tried my cooking yet. It could be Mac and Cheese out of a box for all you know.”  
“Well lucky I am ferociously hungry then…. And I could also eat some food.”   
He waggled an eyebrow at her. She gasped.   
“You really are a bad man.”  
“I would hope so, my dear. I’ve never aspired to be a good man.”   
Although it was said in jest, his voice had a ring of sincerity to it. Gathering her ingredients and placing them on the bench in front of her, she turned to regard him a little sadly.  
“Is that really true, Petyr? I heard on the grapevine that you are a good man, once you get past all the BS. Wasn’t that true?”  
“Who is this malicious slanderer? I am calling my lawyer. I can’t have this fudge on my reputation,” he cried out in mock indignation.  
“I’m being serious. What’s so wrong with being good? My father was a good man,” she mumbled. 

Sensing her sadness at the memory of her recent loss he placed his hand gently on hers and spoke softly.  
“Sansa, your father and I never saw eye to eye. On a lot of things. But one thing I would never question was his integrity, his loyalty, his truthfulness, and he loved his family with every particle of his soul. He was indeed a good man, one of the best men I ever met in fact. But I am afraid those qualities are not my stock in trade. You see I do not expend energies in areas where I know I cannot fully succeed and that will not get me where I need to be.”  
“So you are afraid of failure?”  
“Not at all. Failure is what defines us. It certainly defined me growing up. I made so many mistakes, you have no idea. But you must understand your downfalls and learn from them and build your edifice on them. From great weakness can grow great strength. But there comes a time when failure is no longer an option if you are to succeed in the game of life. I intend to succeed Sansa.”  
“No integrity, loyalty or truth then? That must make for a very lonely life. Are you lonely, Petyr?” she asked softly.   
He seemed momentarily lost for words, breathing a deep sigh and tapping lightly on her hand with one long finger before withdrawing it.  
“How could I possibly be lonely with such a lovely dinner companion right at my side? But you best hurry with that food wench, or there will be a riot.”  
“Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on.”  
“Party pooper.”  
“I think you shouldn’t have promised to behave yourself because you are not likely to succeed,” she smirked.  
He laughed out loud at that one. She liked the way the skin around his eyes crinkled in genuine mirth, his dimples deepening. He suddenly looked much younger.

“Petyr would you like a wine? There is a Pinot Noir or a Sauvignon Blanc if you prefer a white. Or there’s beer.”  
“Yes please. Pinot would be just the thing.”   
She opened the requisite bottle, poured him a glass and slid it towards him.  
“Are you going to join me, Sansa? Oh wait, I forgot you’re too young. You seem so much more mature than your years that I sometimes forget.”  
Sansa beamed at the compliment. She reached for a second glass pouring a small serve.   
“Cheers,” said Sansa clinking her glass to his.  
“Egészségedre,” replied Petyr.  
“Eggy what!?” exclaimed Sansa.  
“It’s Hungarian for “cheers”.  
They both took a sip of their wines.   
“Of course it is. Why did I not know that? Do you know everything, by the way?”  
“Not half as much as I think I do. But one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be accused of corrupting the youth of the nation. Are you sure you should be drinking?”   
“I can have a little. Mom and I have a pact. Even though I am not legal yet she is happy for me to have a little taste of alcohol at home occasionally as long as I promise to never drink outside at parties and stuff.”  
“Really, how is that working out? I mean all the other kids drinking around you. Peer pressure. It must be hard?”  
“I do get hassled sometimes but I just ignore it. It’s not important, not as important as keeping my word to my Mom.”  
He looked at her warmly.  
“I think some of your father’s spirit definitely found its way into you.”

Oh no. Damn him. Why does he have to be so nice? I’m going to cry. I can’t cry in front of him.

Despite her best efforts to control her emotions she could not prevent a tear from spilling down her cheek. 

“No, no. Please don’t cry Sansa. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone there.”  
He shifted around awkwardly in his chair before reaching out his hand to brush delicately at the tear and tucking an errant strand of her hair behind one ear. His touch warm and gentle had the opposite effect than intended. The feeling of tenderness and comfort was too much for her as she felt her eyes brimming with more tears, her bottom lip trembling.  
“Oh God. I’m such a clueless shit. Come here.”  
He walked around the end of the kitchen bench and cradled her to him in a gentle embrace, stroking her hair and calming her with soft whispers. She could feel his warmth and the beating of his heart through the thin material of his shirt as her cheek rested against him and she allowed the tears to flow. He felt so strong, she felt so cosseted in that moment that she hoped he would never let her go. At the same time, as her tears dried and she stilled, she realised the position they were in: her in his arms, a veritable stranger, an older man; alone together in their empty house. It was wrong, wasn’t it? But why did it feel so good? Her fingers started to toy uncertainly with a button of his shirt.

Her confusion and the shift in her emotions must have registered with him because he began to pull himself away from her. She felt a profound sense of loss as his heat left her body and was overtaken by a sudden impulse to kiss him to prolong the contact. She quickly cradled the sides of his face with her small hands and brought his lips to hers. He stiffened at first out of the shock of this completely unexpected development but desire loosened him and he crushed his mouth to hers with increasing fervour, his hands encircling her waist and bringing her flush against him. Sansa whimpered with the intense keening feeling that invaded her whole body from the kiss, from the press of her breasts against his chest and the hardening bulge between Petyr’s legs bruising against her thigh. She had never felt like this before. She didn’t know what was happening to her body but whatever it was she knew she wanted more. Searching for it desperately, she pressed herself against him, eliciting a low moan from Petyr. To her dismay he broke the kiss abruptly and disengaged from her, grabbing her by the upper arms and breathing deeply. 

“No more Sansa. You don’t know what you’re doing,” he hissed.  
“Are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?”  
“No. I’m not angry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed back. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. But it can’t happen again.”   
He brushed his fingers through his hair and exhaled noisily, trying to re-establish control. The lust still lurked in his eyes as he stared at her but his tone was brusque and clipped.  
“You have to understand that you can’t do that to a man and not expect consequences.”  
“Maybe I want the consequences,” she replied in a small trembling voice.

Petyr sighed and continued more gently.  
“Not with me Sansa. With the right man. And only when you are completely ready. This cannot happen again. I am here for you, whatever you want. But not that. I know what you have been through and I know you need comfort, somewhere warm and safe to lay your head and forget about this shitty world from time to time and I am happy to do that for you. But in a way an uncle would for his niece. Nothing more. Do you hear what I am saying?”   
“I am sorry Petyr I thought the way you were talking to me, the way you were touching me before…. And you were so nice to me….I got it wrong… I’m so dumb.”   
Tears were threatening again.  
“No, you are not dumb. I don’t want to hear you say that again. It was entirely my fault. I was playing games with you earlier, teasing you – it was very wrong of me. But like I said before, it is easy to forget how young you are sometimes and I went too far. Do you forgive me?”  
She nodded and looked down, now ashamed and embarrassed, feeling very much like a small chastised child.  
He tilted her chin up to stare into her eyes. The lust and frustration that lurked there before were gone, supplanted by genuine concern.  
“Are we good? Can we put this behind us and have a pleasant night together?”  
“I … I think so.”  
“Good girl.”  
He smiled encouragingly and hugged her to him with one arm. She couldn’t help but cherish this last contact with him but it was nothing but chaste and over all too quickly.


	4. Getting To Know You (2)

On slightly trembling legs, Sansa busied herself with preparing their meal, finding that the routine of cooking helped to steady her frayed nerves, giving her a welcome distraction. She liberated some spicy Italian sausages from their skins and sautéed them with garlic and onions, added some chopped tomatoes, bell peppers, mushrooms, olives and capers. She added her cooked pasta, dressed it with a little olive oil and some shavings of parmesan cheese and chopped parsley and dinner was done. All the while Petyr sat on one of the kitchen stools at the bench studying her, fascinated by the efficiency, economy and confidence with which she worked.  
“You know if you ever want a job in a kitchen for some extra pocket money say the word. I own a number of side businesses including a restaurant on the riverfront, the Mockingbird Inn. Perhaps you have heard of it?”  
“How could I not Petyr. It is one of the best eateries in Westeros.”  
Petyr’s expression spoke of great pride in his achievement.  
“Thank you, that’s kind. But I’m serious. The kitchen can always do with a hand. Where did you learn to put things together like that – so quickly with no recipe and with only the things you had to hand? And you have amazing knife skills.”  
“Just guessing here but you don’t cook much do you Petyr?”  
“Umm. No. I tend to have very little time and –“  
“Is that true or are you just not good at cooking? Is there hope for the rest of the human race after all? Is this yet another thing you do not succeed at? Say it isn’t so?” Sansa giggled.  
“Sarcasm is very unbecoming, my dear,” he mumbled, suppressing a laugh.  
“I think this tutoring thing might work out all right. I seem to be picking things up from you pretty quickly. You are a good teacher.”  
“Cheeky girl.”

They picked up their plates and wine glasses and walked towards the dining room.  
“Actually would you prefer to sit in the lounge room? It’s more comfortable in there and we can put on some music and relax. The dining room is a bit cold and formal.”  
Sansa noticed a slight hesitation from Petyr as his gaze quickly darted back and forth between the dining room and the lounge room as though weighing up the options, the risks.  
“Yeah, lounging sounds great,” he replied eventually.  
It was now dark, so Sansa flicked on a table lamp and opened a CD cabinet searching for an album that was one of her favourites. As the music filled the room, Petyr stared at her quizzically. She sat down next to him on the couch suddenly aware of how close together their bodies were again.  
“Miles Davis? I wasn’t sure what you were going to put on but I sure wasn’t expecting that.”  
“Dad loved Jazz and Blues so we have an extensive collection. It’s what I’ve grown up listening to so I love it too. But I like lots of other stuff as well.”  
“You are full of surprises Sansa Stark.”  
Petyr raised his glass to her.  
“Here’s to fine food, fine wine, fine music and most of all, fine companionship.”  
“Eggy…. whateveritis,” she cried.  
“Yep. Eggywhateveritis.”

Sansa watched Petyr closely as he sampled his first forkful of pasta. He looked up, eyes wide and smiling.  
“Oh God, that is so good. Spicy. I hope you’ve got seconds. Oh wait, I forgot about your Mom.”  
“Yes that is not very chivalrous of you. You are a greedy man, Petyr.”  
“You have no idea, my dear. Seriously though, where did you learn to cook like this?”  
“For quite a few years now I have done most of the cooking for the family. It’s often so late by the time Mom gets back from work she’s too tired. I cooked all the time for Jon and Robb too when they lived here. They were greedy like you so I am not sure I miss them where that’s concerned. I enjoy cooking. I find it relaxing when I get in the zone. So if you don’t cook, what do you eat? I hope you don’t eat takeout all the time.”  
“Not guilty. Sometimes I go to my restaurant or my chef Marcos will organise to have meals delivered to me. I do go to other restaurants for a change and I am capable of cooking quick simple meals; I just don’t have much time or the inclination if I’m honest.”

“It must get pretty boring eating by yourself all the time.”  
“Why do you assume I am on my own?”  
“Oh I just assumed that Aunt Lysa lived too far away over in the Vale for it to be practical to see each other through the week.”  
“That is true – we mainly see each other on weekends at this stage. But I do have other people in my universe you know, business associates, acquaintances, staff at my businesses.”  
“What about friends, Petyr?”  
“Past friends have been highly overrated at best, untrustworthy at worst. They have always let me down in the end.”  
“That is very sad.”  
Sansa felt inextricably drawn to him in that moment. She hesitated for a second then lay her hand on his arm, shuffling closer to him.  
“I can be your friend, Petyr.”  
Petyr placed his plate on the coffee table and stared deeply into her eyes, his expression unreadable.  
“I believe we are already friends, Sansa.”  
He patted her hand paternally and picked up his glass to swallow another mouthful of wine.

 

She moved away from him as slowly and discreetly as she could. She didn’t know what to do or say next, dismayed at his gentle yet firm rejection of her. Perhaps sensing her discomfort he smoothly changed tack.  
“Have you managed to find many friends in that den of miscreants that is King’s Landing High?”  
“Not a fan?”  
“I have met many of the parents, worked or had dealings with some in one capacity or another and in all honesty I can say that I hold out little hope for the progeny.”  
“Yeah. You’re right. They’re not my kind of people either but I have got one friend and she is great, not like the others. Her name is Margaery.”  
“As in, Tyrell?”  
“Yes, do you know her?”  
“I know Olenna Tyrell, Margaery’s grandmother. A woman of some considerable means and with incredible business acumen in her day. You could do worse than hitch your wagon to that particular star.”  
“Margaery’s nice to me and that’s why she is my friend not because of her social position, her money, all that other stuff,” Sansa huffed.  
“That is sweet Sansa but you can choose your friends and you may as well choose the ones that will lift you up over the ones that will tear you down.”  
“It must be hard work being you,” she admonished.  
“Sometimes that’s true. But hard work is the only way to get where you are going if you are not born to your wealth and privilege like others.”  
Sansa detected a hint of bitterness. 

Petyr paused, steepling his fingers under his chin, his eyes narrowing.  
“And boys? A pretty girl like you must have them eating out of her hands.”  
She blushed and couldn’t look him in the eye.  
“Not so much. There is one boy but I haven’t spoken to him yet,” she mumbled reluctantly.  
“Why haven’t you spoken to him?”  
“I – I’m not very good at speaking to boys. I don’t have much….experience. Dad didn’t really let me go out on dates. I never know what to say.”  
“You’re talking with me now and holding your own quite well I must say,” he encouraged.  
“That’s not the same. You’re not a boy,” Sansa scoffed.  
“That should give you more confidence not less. If you can hold down a conversation with a grown man like me then a mere callow youth should be putty in your hands.”  
He leaned forward, intensifying his gaze.  
“And does this lump of putty have a name?”  
“Why do you want to know?” she blurted out now feeling entirely uncomfortable discussing the subject.  
“I like to know about the friends of my friends,” he replied silkily.  
Sansa sighed. “His name is Joffrey.”

Petyr stiffened and seemed somewhat alarmed but only for an instant and then his usual mask of control returned. Sansa wondered at his reaction.  
“Would that be one Joffrey Baratheon, Esquire?” he enquired eventually.  
“The one and the same.”  
Petyr chuckled.  
“Why are you amused by that Petyr?”  
“It’s such a small world, getting smaller by the day. Joffrey’s father, Robert is the CEO of the company I work for. I am the CFO and also sit on the board of the company; I report directly to him.”  
“Wow, at Kingsgate International? I didn’t know that. Mom didn’t mention where you worked.”  
Petyr’s voice took on a serious tone.  
“Sansa, I think you need to be a bit careful of Joffrey.”  
“Why? Do you have a problem with his father? If that’s what this is, he isn’t his father you know.”  
“Don’t be so sure of that my dear. If you haven’t already you might want to talk to your friend Margaery about him – see if she knows anything - you know, gather some intelligence.”  
“You are being ridiculous. You sound like a CIA agent. And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t see? You aren’t my father,” she blurted.  
She regretted the words and her angry tone as soon as they left her mouth. She also realised that his advice was sound but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.  
“No, Sansa,” he sighed, looking suddenly tired. “I most assuredly am not your father. I have been reminded of that all of my life.”

Sansa was about to ask him what he meant by that when the phone trilled from the opposite corner of the room.  
“Hey Mom. Yeah, he’s here. We’re just finishing off dinner. I’ll reheat some for you when you get here. You’re lucky there is any left though – you didn’t tell me how greedy he is.” Sansa winked at Petyr from across the room; he grinned in response.  
“So are we finally going to say goodbye to that spawn of the devil that you so amusingly call a car? …. Oh, is that all it was? So you should be back soon? ..... Great. See you Mom.”  
“So the Dadsmobile lives to drive another day, I take it.”  
“Yeah, pity. It wouldn’t crank over but it was just dirty battery connections or something. She won’t be long.”

Petyr patted the empty space next to him on the couch.  
“Sansa, come and sit over here for a moment. I want to say something to you before your mother gets here.”  
She sat down next to him, their knees lightly touching. He drew both of her hands into his. She felt the warm fluttering in her belly from earlier and struggled to keep her breathing steady.  
Petyr spoke softly. 

“I know I am not your father. I know I could never replace your father and I don’t want to. But I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. You got a little angry with me before. I get that. If it comes across like I am trying to tell you what to do, sticking my nose in, that’s not what I am doing. It’s just my concern coming out. I care about what happens to you. I am here for you. I will do whatever it is within my power to do for you. For you and your sister and your mother. Here. I am going to give you my business card; my personal details are written on the back.”

He handed her the card, deep green with a black silhouette design of a small bird sitting on a tree branch embossed into the corner. His home address details and personal cell number were scribed in tidy, precise script on the reverse.  
“I don’t care what time of the day or night it is, if you are ever in trouble or you just need to talk, you come to me or you call me. Will you do that for me?”  
“Yes Petyr. Thank you. I’ve been a brat. I’m sorry.”  
Petyr released one of her hands and brought his fingers under her chin, staring earnestly at her.  
“You are a beautiful, strong, intelligent girl Sansa. Never forget that and never let anyone treat you otherwise.”  
Overcome by his closeness to her and the warmth of his words, she flung her arms around him and crushed him to her in a spontaneous embrace of affection and gratitude. Petyr’s arms hung limply by his sides at first but then slowly encircled her. Planting a quick chaste kiss on the top of her head, he disentangled himself from her without meeting her eyes and moved to the other end of the couch with a soft sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Petyr's POV.   
> NB Sansa's comment that Petyr sounds like a CIA agent is a cheeky nod to Aidan Gillen's turn as CIA agent Bill Wilson in The Dark Knight Rises


	5. Arrangements and Entanglements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Petyr's POV. A shortish chapter. I hope you like it. Next up a little Margaery and Joffrey!

The rest of the dinner had gone without a hitch. Cat had arrived a little flustered some ten minutes later, full of apologies and self-recriminations.  
“Nonsense Catelyn, these things can’t be helped,” smoothed Petyr. “Although a little bird tells me that a change of ride may be in order.”  
“Turncoat!” Catelyn eyed her daughter in mock umbrage.  
“But really Catelyn, we have had a very nice time. You have raised a very bright young lady; she is a credit to you.”  
Sansa blushed lightly, eyes downcast.  
“Hello. I’m in the room. Sitting right here,” she mumbled.  
Petyr and Catelyn laughed while Sansa’s face reddened further. 

“What did you two talk about all of this time?” enquired Catelyn.  
Sansa chewed at her bottom lip nervously, clearly remembering their kiss and embrace and could not meet her mother’s eye. Petyr felt compelled to come to the rescue.  
“Anything and everything Catelyn. You would be surprised, I think, at what a good conversationalist Sansa is. She kept me quite entertained.”  
Catelyn glanced at Petyr and Sansa quizzically. Sansa looked grateful and relieved; Petyr kept his facial expression neutral; Catelyn beamed.  
“Good. I’m really glad to hear you are getting on so well. Now, I’m starving.”  
“I’ll heat some pasta up for you now Mom. Won’t take long.”  
“Thanks darling.”

Once Sansa had left the room, Catelyn turned to Petyr and took his hands in hers.  
“I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t know what you did, what you said to her, but I can see a change in her already. She seems more alive than she has in months.”  
“I meant what I said. She is an extraordinary young girl Cat. Very mature for her age, very astute, funny, sensitive. But I can sense the sadness in her – she still misses her father very much.”  
“Yes, it was very hard for her, as sudden as it was. She didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to him. I don’t think she will ever completely get over it but if someone can put a smile on her face and make her care about her life again then that is all I can hope for. I think she has taken a bit of a shine to you actually. She is not very good at hiding her feelings, never has been.”

Yes, I’ve noticed that. It’s an unfortunate weakness in her, he mused to himself.

“Well, I am very taken with her too Cat. She’s special. Rest assured. I will do what I can to help her, to help all of you. You need only ask.”  
“Thank you Petyr. That means a lot to me.”

Later that evening as Petyr sat behind the wheel of his black Lincoln he began to reflect on his encounter with Sansa. 

What the hell happened? How could something go so completely tits up? 

He had gone to Cat’s with the intention of speaking to the girl about the importance of her education, to get to know how her mind worked and how he might help her but had found himself in a situation almost completely beyond his control. Losing control was not him; it was not who he was now. He could remember only one other time in his life when he had felt so out of his depth, so buried under a morass of conflicting impulses and emotions and that had not ended well. He would not allow himself to be that young naïve fool that he had once been. He had come too far, had worked too hard. It was inconceivable that he would let himself fall victim to sentimentality again – it was a weakness that he had thought long ago conquered. 

How had she done it? How had she penetrated the walls of his defences when so many others could not? When he had first seen her in her bedroom he was transfixed by her beauty. Something about the line of her jaw, the flash of her large azure eyes and her luxuriant red hair reminded him of a young Catelyn. But she was much, much more than that. There was something ethereal about her allure, a grace and refinement anchored by an inner strength of spirit that had begun to flower within her. He could glimpse the beginnings of the woman she would eventually become and she would become spectacular, of that he had no doubt. He had seen her strength when she had challenged him over his comments about Catelyn and had felt a genuine surge of respect for her. Her continual playful banter with him over dinner was an utter unexpected delight. She also clearly had no idea of her effect on the opposite sex which was a quality he found very appealing. 

She was quick witted, charming, sensitive and intelligent but also innocent. It was an intoxicating blend. Of course he knew that she had been toying with him when she spoke his name so prettily - it was obvious that she was not practised in the arts of seduction. Despite this or perhaps because of it, her actions moved him, just how much he did not want to admit to himself. She was everything he desired in a woman; her qualities were ones that were so often sorely lacking in the women of his acquaintance. 

He had never let any of the women he was previously involved with truly touch him in any meaningful way – until now. When Sansa kissed him every atom of his body screamed at him to return the kiss and to escalate the contact; somehow he had managed to regain control before his impulse to bury his raging erection deep inside her took him over completely. The memory of her warm soft lips on his and their bodies pressed together caused his fingers to tighten around his steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. But her effect on him in that moment was as nothing compared to her later sweetness towards him. When she had looked inside him and offered to assuage his loneliness it touched something in his core, something he buried deep but apparently not deeply enough. He had wanted so badly to take her there and then in the extremis of this powerful emotion but he had made a vow to her and to her mother and to himself to do something good for once in his miserable self-centred life, so he had crushed the impulse but with considerable difficulty. He admonished himself soundly. 

Baelish. You are an old fool. She is only a child. She could have been your daughter, if things had been different. You are losing it old man.

He had almost backed out of his agreement with Cat to tutor Sansa. He did not know if he could trust himself around her. But he could think of no reasonable explanation for a refusal given that they had developed an obvious simpaticos. Besides, the girl clearly needed some guidance and support – he wanted to help her, and if he were being entirely honest with himself, he would miss her quirky, joking, self-deprecating manner and those beautiful blue eyes, her gorgeous blushes and those plump lips…..

You’re doing it again. You’re not some pimply-nosed horny adolescent twit but you sure are acting like one. She’s just a kid. Get it together.

Petyr sighed deeply. In the end he had agreed to visit the house every Monday and Friday night to begin with to see what sort of progress they could make with her school work. Those were nights he was now very apprehensive about but at the same time, he looked forward to them, realising he already missed her. A certain part of his anatomy missed her especially; a long shower was certainly on the cards tonight.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?


	6. Unwelcome Intel

It was a cold wet day that greeted Sansa when she woke on Monday. She felt a gnawing in her gut, dreading the school day ahead but at least she could look forward to tonight. She had not been able to stop thinking about Petyr since their encounter. At the most unwelcome of times the memory of the hypnotic gaze of his eyes, his soft lips, his elegant hands, his silken voice, his intoxicating scent and the firm press of his body against hers would come unbidden to her and she would feel some of that warm keening through her body that she had felt whenever he had touched her.

Stop it. You are making a fool out of yourself. He isn’t interested in you. You’re just a kid to him. He is marrying your Aunt for God’s sake. 

She resolved to think of other things, to banish the spectre of Petyr Baelish from her mind. She had decided that he had been right about one thing. There was no point in putting off speaking to Joffrey any longer. She would suck it up and approach him.

What’s the worst that could happen…right? Yeah right. 

And she had also concluded that checking things out with Margaery first wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

“Margaery, Margaery, hey wait up.”  
Sansa splished and splashed through puddles of water in the school grounds to reach her friend, stray tendrils of wet red hair trailing from under her hoodie. The older girl turned smiling in greeting and when Sansa had caught up they strolled slowly towards the school hall, arm in arm.  
“Hey Sans. How was your weekend?”  
“Yeah. Good. Well a bit weird actually.”  
She had not intended to bring up her meeting with Petyr and she certainly wasn’t going to divulge all the gory details but she did feel an imperative to discuss it with somebody.  
“Mom arranged for this guy to come over and tutor me a couple of times a week. Maths and Economics are giving me a migraine.”  
“Oooooh. Do tell. Is he hot?” Margaery nudged Sansa with her elbow, smirking.  
Sansa blushed brightly. God she hated her uncontrollable blushes.  
“He is, isn’t he? Oh My God. You have all the luck. I swear. Why doesn’t anyone organise a hot tutor for me?”  
“Quit it Margaery. He is old enough to be my father,” she muttered.  
“Oh. But he can still be hot. There are lots of attractive older men out there.”  
“I’m not even 18 yet, don’t forget. It’s not like that anyway. He is going to be my uncle. He is marrying my Aunt Lysa later in the year.”

“Ah. That does change things. How disappointing. I thought you were going to dish all sorts of juicy gossip. What’s his name, this smokin’ uncle to be?”  
“Petyr. Petyr Baelish.”  
“No way!!!” she exclaimed. “And just for the record he is hot as hell. That voice, that bod!”  
Margaery fanned her face dramatically with one hand faking a melodramatic swoon.  
Sansa rolled her eyes in exasperation.  
“How do you know about him?”  
“I’ve never actually met him, worse luck, but he’s very influential around Kings Landing. He’s constantly in the media. Oh wait Miss Bookworm - you don’t watch much TV so you probably haven’t come across him. He has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. Quite apropos really given his nickname.”  
“Which is?”  
“Littlefinger.”  
“You’re kidding right?” she scoffed.  
“No, I’m not. I have often wondered what the name might be referring to – ha ha.”  
Margaery elbowed Sansa with a saucy nudge, nudge, wink, wink gesture.  
“But I guess you won’t be in a position to solve that mystery for me?”  
“Margaery!”

“Sorry Sans. Won’t happen again. Promise. Look, Mr Baelish has done business with my Grandmother and he’s always done alright by her. But he has a seriously bad reputation around town for screwing people over when they get in his way. And you have to be a bit suspect about someone who runs brothels, especially when he doesn’t need the money.”  
“Brothels!?” Sansa exclaimed loudly.  
Several other students turned to look at them in surprise and curiosity as Sansa cringed and felt her face flame with embarrassment.  
“Ssssh. Don’t say anything to anybody. It’s not common knowledge but my Grandmother found out years ago. She likes to know who she is doing business with.”  
Sansa was shocked to the core. He had of course mentioned side businesses but had only ever specifically referred to Mockingbird Inn. Did her mother even know? Did Aunt Lysa? How could she possibly trust someone like that? No wonder he never lacked for dinner companions. He was probably humping all the hookers that worked for him. She was so angry and hurt at his apparent duplicity.  
What a bastard. Poor Aunt Lysa.

Margaery noticed Sansa’s alarm and her subsequent pensiveness.  
“Look all I’m saying is just keep an eye on him. He’s the type that never does anything without a reason, you know what I mean? I’m sure it will be fine though – he is going to be your family so that’s different.”  
“I’m not so sure it is, actually,” she retorted bitterly.  
“Anyway, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about before classes start, Margaery.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Um. See, there is this guy in my English class. He kind of looks at me and smiles. I think he might be interested in me but I’m not sure. I was thinking I might talk to him today. I haven’t had the guts to speak to him yet.”  
“Just go for it girl. Who is he?”  
“Joffrey Baratheon.”

Margaery stopped walking, pulling them both to a stop. She regarded Sansa with a worried frown.  
“Okay, you can tell me to mind my own business but what I said about Petyr Baelish earlier goes double for Joffrey.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Joffrey tried to get something going with me last year but I wasn’t interested. When he persisted and I said no he got mean. At one stage I actually thought he was going to hit me – you should have seen the look in his eyes. He never touched me but I felt how incredibly angry he was. He has a sense of self-entitlement like you wouldn’t believe. And there was all that business with Kathryn Bartell last year.”  
“Who is she?”  
“She was Joffrey’s girlfriend. After she started dating him she changed, Sans. I mean the life just seemed to get sucked right out of her. She started to lose so much weight and she was always wearing long sleeves and scarves around her neck and stuff, even in summer. Something was really off with her. Finally one day she just never turned up to class. Word is that she ran off. Everyone noticed that Joffrey wasn’t particularly cut up about it.”  
Sansa considered carefully before replying.  
“I see. Thanks for telling me Margaery.”  
“What are you going to do, kiddo?”  
“I’m going to be careful but I will make up my own mind about him. It sounds like no one has ever actually seen him do anything wrong. Who knows, she could have been on drugs or something. But I will keep in mind everything you’ve told me.”  
Margaery eyed her dubiously but didn’t push it any further.

Just then the bell chimed for the beginning of classes. English was Sansa’s first class so at least she could get all the awkwardness out of the way early and get on with the rest of her day. She hurried inside the school building. Rounding a corner of the corridor there was Joffrey, leaning nonchalantly against a bank of lockers, smiling right at her.  
“Hey, Sansa.”  
Sansa tried to appear relaxed although her heart was beating rapidly.  
“Hi Joffrey.”  
He straightened and sauntered closer to her. Something about the way he looked at her seemed predatory and cold but she shook off the feeling, deciding she had let Margaery’s accusations get the better of her. But she couldn’t help but compare the effect that Joffrey’s eyes had on her with Petyr’s and found the former sorely lacking.

Stop it. Don’t think about him. 

“Hey, I was thinking. Would you like to, you know, maybe go out some time?”  
“Um. Yeah. Great. I’d like that,” she replied shyly.  
“How about Friday? We can go catch a film if you want?”  
Sansa winced. She had her second tutoring session with Petyr scheduled at the same time. 

No, to hell with Petyr. I could strangle him right now. I have to see him tonight but it will give me great satisfaction to tell him where to stick his help, support whatever he wants to call it.

“Sure. I’ll meet you outside the cinema at 6.30?” she suggested.  
“No. I can come and pick you up, say 6.00”  
“Okay that would be great. Here’s my address.”  
Sansa scribbled her details down on a scrap of paper and handed it to Joffrey.  
“Looking forward to it, Red.”  
He winked at her but for some reason the gesture felt arrogant and intimidating. Shaking it off, Sansa made her way to her class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, the proverbial poo hits the fan!


	7. A Confrontation

Later that evening Sansa was seated at one end of the dining room table poring over some history homework when the doorbell rang. Her hair was bundled up with a scrunchie, she wore skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt, casual but accentuating her lithe figure and the slender length of her limbs. She steeled herself knowing it would be Petyr. Arya had taken up fencing lessons so she wouldn’t be back for ages; her mother was caught up at the office. She had prepared dinner and had organised two place settings at the opposite end of the table. There was no way she was going to eat dinner with him in the lounge room in the warm semi-darkness with him so near.  
Sansa shivered as she walked nervously to the door. She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily before pulling on the door handle.  
“Hey Petyr. Thanks for coming,” she said as casually as she could.  
Petyr smiled and planted a chaste peck on her cheek. He looked as though he had come straight from the office as he still wore expensive business attire. He had removed his tie, unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves revealing strong lightly muscled forearms. His hair was slightly mussed and dampened from the light drizzle outside.

Wow. He looks incredibly sexy like this. Damn him.

Sansa could feel herself becoming increasingly flustered; she took a deep breath and ushered Petyr inside. 

“How was your day at school Sansa?”  
“Good, good. Everything was fine. Come in. I’ve made us some dinner.”  
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Mmmm. It smells great.”  
“Lamb and artichoke casserole and some freshly baked bread.”  
“I do feel very spoilt.”  
“It’s the least I can do.”  
She walked towards the kitchen with Petyr close at her heels.  
“Where is everybody?”  
“Arya is at her fencing lesson. Mom’s caught up at work.”  
“Fencing lessons?” he chuckled as he shook his head lightly.  
“You Stark girls are a surprise a minute. But somehow it suits her. She is really something that sister of yours.”  
“Yeah, really something,” she replied sarcastically.

Sansa grabbed a couple of plates from an overhead cupboard and spooned a generous helping of the casserole on one, a smaller portion for herself on the other. She grabbed the hot loaf of bread from the oven and placed it on a wooden board with a knife.  
“Would you like some wine?”  
“No thanks, better keep my brain clear tonight or I won’t be much use to you. A bit tired too.”  
Sansa studied his face and detected a hint of fatigue around his eyes. She felt herself longing to stroke her fingers along the side of his cheek but chastised herself immediately for the thought. She was supposed to be angry with him, wasn’t she?  
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you sure you’re up for it?” she enquired instead.  
“Yeah, but if I nod off just give me a nudge.”  
“Here, make yourself useful. Can you grab the bread? I’ll take the plates.”  
“Of course.”  
Sansa registered a slight hitch in Petyr’s step as he realised she was steering them towards the cold clinical lighting of the dining room and away from the cosy inviting semi-darkness of the lounge room. Was that a sigh?

They sat across from each other, arranging their plates and the bread between them. Petyr sampled the casserole.  
“Wow. This is wonderful. Just the thing for such a wet miserable night. You’ve done it again, Chef.”  
“Try some bread.”  
Petyr cut a slice from the still steaming loaf and chewed on it appreciatively.  
“It’s great. Not everyone can make bread this good you know.”  
“I’ve had plenty of practice,”

They continued on in silence for some time. Sansa toyed absently with her food, pushing it from side to side on the plate but eating very little. Obviously Petyr had noticed.  
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”  
“Not especially.”  
“You aren’t sick are you?”  
Finally he had registered that she was out of sorts. By this stage she was seething inside.  
“I’m not ill,” she snapped.  
“Then what is it? You don’t seem like yourself.”  
“And how would you know? You don’t really know me. And it seems like I don’t really know you either.”  
Petyr’s gaze intensified and he began to look slightly irritated.  
“What are you getting at, Sansa?”

Suddenly Sansa slammed her knife and fork down on the table with a loud clang; Petyr jumped in his chair with the violence and unexpectedness of it but soon regained his composure. She propelled herself to her feet to tower over him.  
“When were you going to tell me?”  
“Tell you what, sweet?” he replied calmly, leaning back in his chair.  
His controlled response in the face of her bristling anger only served to infuriate her more.  
“About your other businesses: your brothels! How could you sit there and pretend you care about women in the slightest when you treat them like dirt, like some piece of property to be sold off to the highest bidder, to be pawed at by some old disgusting sex-mad letch. You disgust me, LITTLEFINGER,” she spat.

Petyr carefully lay his utensils down and slowly raised himself from his chair: a study in supreme self-control. There was a fury tenuously restrained in his smouldering eyes.  
“Sansa, don’t ever call me that again. That is not a name I wish to be called by, especially not by you. It is a complete disrespect to me. I do not believe I have earned that disrespect.”  
He had spoken softly and steadily but the menacing undercurrents in his tone were all too apparent. Sansa began to tremble fearing she had pushed him too far. He continued, his voice modulated, his words measured. 

“First of all, how I conduct my affairs is no concern of yours. I do not answer to children. Secondly, I did not tell you because that would have been an inappropriate conversation in the situation. I would have told you eventually, in my own time and in my own way. Thirdly, I have nothing but the greatest respect for women. The women in my establishments are the best paid professional escorts in the city. They are protected by my security personnel at all times, they have all of their medical expenses paid for, and they are free to leave anytime they please. Some of the women have even been given vocational training and job opportunities at Kingsgate International when they are no longer able to work for me directly. The women who work for me do so because they wish to not because they are sex slaves.” 

“Lastly, to answer your unspoken question, no, I don’t FUCK my working women, because I know that is what you really wish to know!” Petyr roared finally as he slammed a palm down on the table with considerable force.

Sansa was shocked by his obscenity and ferocity, such a contrast to the controlled and gentle nature he had previously displayed with her. Despite her fear she looked him straight in the eye and drew herself up to her full height.  
“Now I think I’m starting to see the real Petyr Baelish. You’ve got an answer for everything haven’t you? It amazes me how you can twist everything to make yourself look like a saint. The fact remains you trade in female flesh. That’s really something to be proud of. Does my mother even know, does Aunt Lysa?”  
“As it happens Sansa, yes they do,” he replied more calmly.  
That surprised her.  
“You see they are mature enough women of the world to understand these things. I can’t say they exactly love the idea but they know that these are professionally run establishments where the employees are treated well. Whether or not you choose to believe it these women provide a valuable social service. It is not all degradation and smut. Everyone is an adult and no one is forced to do anything they don’t want to do.”

Sansa was stung by his condescension and continual insinuations that she was nothing but an ignorant child. She didn’t understand why it affected her so much. Her father had always treated her like his precious little baby girl so she ought to have been accustomed to it but somehow coming from this man, it hurt her.  
“Look I think you better leave. I don’t think this is a good idea anymore, Petyr.”  
“I’m not leaving until you see sense.”  
“Why are you even bothering with me if I’m such a little child to you?” she blurted.  
He sighed loudly in exasperation.  
“That’s not what you are to me. I promised your mother I would help you. No, it’s more than that: I want to help you.”  
“I don’t need you. Don’t you get it? You’re making things harder. Go and run your ‘businesses’, stab people in the back, lie, do whatever it is you do but leave me out of it,” she spat with venom.  
“Ah, I see. Someone has been in your ear, am I right? Was it your little friend, Margaery perhaps? You should be careful about believing everything little birds chirp in your ear, Sansa.”

 

Sansa scowled and pointed at the door.  
“Please see yourself out. And you needn’t bother with Friday. I’ll tell my mother something has come up at your work and you can’t make it. I won’t be here anyway; I have another engagement.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’ve got a date with Joffrey actually,” she replied smugly.  
Petyr snorted in derision.  
“So Margaery sang prettily to you about my alleged indiscretions. Did you ask her about Joffrey? Was she just as forthcoming there?”  
“Yes she was actually. But a lot of it sounded like gossip. I’m going to make my own mind up. That’s what mature women do,” she replied sarcastically.  
Petyr chuckled darkly.  
“So, let me get this straight. You organised this…this…date knowing full well we had a prior arrangement?”  
“Yep. I don’t have to answer to you. I’ve done the right thing and given you plenty of notice. Now please, if you’ll excuse me I need to get back to my homework.” 

Sansa stalked straight past him without meeting his eyes, moving towards the front door to see him out. Suddenly she sensed his presence closing in right behind her, his hand snaking out and grabbing her roughly by the arm, twirling her around to face him. His darkened eyes seared into her.  
“Let go of me,” she whimpered, now truly frightened.  
“What exactly are you trying to do to me,” he seethed through gritted teeth, “by dangling that little snot-nosed twat in front of me?”  
“Nothing. I don’t know what you mean.” she replied tremulously.  
“So this is how it’s going to be? You’re going to turn into a slut and fuck some random kid because your feelings got wounded? You’re thinking to make me all jealous and butt hurt over it. This is a very dangerous game you’re playing. You will need to grow up and grow up fast to play it, little girl,” he snarled.  
“Shut up, shut up!” she screamed as she snapped her arm back and slapped him in the face as hard as she could.

 

They both stood stock still, stunned at the violence of the act, Petyr gingerly nursing his now stinging and reddened cheek with one hand.  
“An insult and a slap all in one night. Well done. Not many people get that opportunity,” he hissed.

Now panicked, she cried out and tried to run for the door but he grabbed her around the waist with one hand and clapped his other hand over her mouth to stifle her screams as he dragged her kicking and flailing towards the lounge room flinging her roughly down on the couch. Her hair loosened from the scrunchie, spreading around her face like blood. With a strength belying his stature he grabbed both of her wrists in his free hand and held them above her head. He lowered himself down beside her, shuffling towards her so that half of his body pressed over hers, one leg draped completely over her hips, containing her. She could feel his hot breath against her face. She struggled and squirmed under him, tears now streaking down her cheeks, her breaths fast and shallow; her eyes were wild with fear. 

“Calm down. Are you ready to listen to me now? Really listen?”  
She nodded and whimpered against his hand.  
“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth now. Don’t scream,” he warned.  
As he slowly removed his hand and released her wrists, her mouth began to tremble.  
“Please Petyr, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me,” she cried between sobs.  
The pleading in her voice and in her eyes seemed to dissolve his anger immediately. He stared at her, his face only inches from hers for some moments before he reached his hand towards her cheek. She flinched and gasped unsure of his intentions. A pained look crossed his face.  
“No. No. Sansa. Don’t be frightened. Hush now. What kind of man do you think I am? I could never hurt you. I couldn’t just let you run out of the house like a mad woman. I just wanted you to calm down and listen to me.”  
He wiped delicately at her tears with his thumb.  
“Please stop crying. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Sitting up he pulled her up into a warm embrace, smoothing and stroking her tangled hair with his long fingers. Once she had calmed she moved from him and looked into his eyes.  
“Do you hate me now? Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry I hit you,” she mumbled.  
“I don’t hate you, I never could.”

He took her face between his hands and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her lips parted slightly and trembled. His eyes looked down staring fixedly at her mouth. He brought her closer and brushed her lips ever so gently with his, then stopped once again to stare deep into her eyes. Suddenly his hand reached to the back of her head, entangling in her long tresses, crushing her mouth to his, his tongue parting her lips to search for hers, hungrily. His other hand landed on the very top of her thigh, massaging it slowly but firmly as he deepened the kiss. After some moments his mouth kissed along her jawline and down to her throat to nip and suck at a point underneath her earlobe while his fingers continued to play on her thigh. She had never been kissed or touched like this before but the feeling was sweet, savage, hot, furious and incredibly erotic. His lips returned to hers and as her tongue wrestled with his and probed his whole mouth savouring his taste, her fingers combed through the greying hair at his temples, her fingernails scraping at his scalp. With his now dishevelled hair and clothing, his eyes hot with lust, she was completely captivated by him but she sensed that he was starting to pull away. Desperately needing to maintain contact, she pushed her body hard against his and impulsively reached down for the bulge in his trousers, squeezing gently. Petyr moaned low and grabbed at her hand breaking from the kiss.

“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping, Petyr?” she panted.  
“You know why,” he rasped.  
“Don’t you want me?”  
She reached for his face but he tilted his head away from her hand, avoiding the contact.  
“Sansa, please. Don’t.”  
He ran his fingers roughly through his hair and stared intently at her as he attempted to control his breathing.  
“We can’t do this. Apart from the very salient fact that it’s not right, not even legal, have you stopped to think what happens next? If we have sex, what then? Do we continue to see each other? How do we do that? What do we tell your mother, the rest of the family? We can’t hide it forever. And what do you suppose their reaction would be? And then there’s your Aunt to consider. We’re getting married.”  
She stared at him incredulously.  
“What? You would still marry her? You don’t even love her. I know you don’t.”  
“You don’t know anything about our relationship, Sansa.”  
“I know you don’t love her because you never speak about her. I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her unless I’ve mentioned her first. If you love someone they are your whole world.”  
She looked at him meaningfully. He sighed deeply in response.  
“Love comes in many forms. Not every relationship comes straight out of a storybook. Your Aunt Lysa and I have a solid bond built over many years. This marriage will be a strong one, good for both of us.”  
“You make it sound like a business merger rather than a loving relationship.”

“Enough Sansa.” He sounded exasperated now.  
“Do you care about me Petyr?”  
“Of course I do. You know I do. You are going to be my niece. I care very much about you. I have told you that.”  
“I don’t mean like that. Do you…do you have feelings for me?” she asked blushing.  
Petyr appeared to hesitate before replying.  
“Sansa. No. I can’t think about you like that.”  
She felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes but blinked them back. “Okay. I get it now. You just want to have your cake and eat it too. You come over here, you sprout your pretty words, you get your little bit of slap and tickle and then you slink back to your fiancé. That’s just great. Thanks a lot,” she sniped.  
“It’s not like that," he muttered.

He looked offended and dare she even think it, a little hurt, but she would not be swayed.  
“I want you to get out now. Nothing you say now can make this right. I don’t want to see you again. Do not come on Friday. I won’t be here. I have somewhere else to be with someone who might actually want to be with me.”  
“I can’t just leave it like this. Please just let me –.”  
“I said get out!” she yelled. “I HATE you!”  
She noticed him flinch and regretted the words instantly but now that she had started she was compelled to go on.  
“Just go!”

He stood, shot her one last unreadable glance and strode quickly towards the door. When he reached it he turned to regard her. His voice was oddly devoid of emotion.  
“I know you’re angry with me but just promise me you will think about what I said and be careful around that boy.”  
She crossed her arms in annoyance and looked down not prepared to meet his gaze or to grace his request with a reply. He hesitated for a moment but then she heard the door close and he was gone. Gone.  
She stared at the door for a long time hoping that it would open and that he would re-appear but had not the slightest notion what she would do if it eventuated.

I don’t hate him. Why did I say that to him? 

The constant push and pull of her emotions finally took their toll as she curled up on the couch and allowed her tears to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. A bit intense. And it's going to get interesting next chapter for our poor Sansa but I'll make it up to her...eventually. Next is a Petyr POV


	8. Surprise Guest (Petyr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING**  
> This chapter deals with assault and attempted rape so please be aware if you are in a place where this might be an issue. Joffrey's handiwork as seen from Petyr's POV.

The working week seemed to drag on forever even though it was a continuous blur of meetings, conference calls and flights. Petyr felt exhausted, every one of his 42 years weighing heavily. He inspected his reflection in the bathroom mirror, sighed and ran his hands tiredly through his hair. He did not entirely like what he saw there. While he was nothing but professional at work as it was not in his nature to be otherwise, he nonetheless found himself continually distracted by his confrontation with Sansa. She had been completely correct in her recriminations of him. What he had been doing to her was not fair. He was not deliberately toying with her but when he touched her, felt her warm body and soft lips against his, he simply could not control himself around her. The net result had been the same. He had hurt her, made her feel that she was no better than one of the women in his brothels, used and set to the side like some tawdry indiscretion. 

That is not how he felt about her. In truth he wasn’t sure how he felt – she had completely destabilised him to the point that he had started to question his own self-belief. How could he pretend to himself that there was anything human left in him, anything salvageable? He had no compunctions about his treatment of others in the business arena. He would do what needed to be done there and would have no qualms about it. But this was different – he cared about this girl and her family, his future family, and would not see her or them harmed, particularly by his own hand. This solicitousness was new and strange territory for him as he rarely put others’ needs before his own. But still, for all this novel familial concern he still wanted Sansa; wanted to possess her completely. He knew it was wrong and that he needed to stay away from her but he could not deny it to himself anymore. And therein lay the dilemma. He could not have her without destroying her, himself and everyone around them – that much was clear.

He sighed deeply realising that his constant agonising over it was ultimately futile as Sansa hated him now. He could not see any possible way to turn the situation around. Not that he hadn’t tried. During the week he had rung her from his cell but she must have recognised the number and had rejected the call. He texted her.

‘Are you alright? Can we talk?’

‘I know I was wrong but please don’t be angry anymore. Can’t we find a way to put this behind us?’ 

She never responded. In reluctant capitulation he sent her a final text to let her know he would speak to her mother about the tutoring. 

‘I will tell her there are some major issues with some of our international branches that require my personal attention and that I can’t commit at the moment.’ 

At least they would have their stories straight. 

‘Please look after yourself. I miss you. And I’m sorry.’ 

She never responded.

He had been unable to dispel the disquiet he felt over Sansa’s date with Joffrey Baratheon. While she had clearly been given the heads up by Margaery Tyrell he knew that Sansa was not in possession of the full truth. Should he have told her? No, that would have been too dangerous for her, for him, for all concerned. He thought long and hard about having Sansa trailed to ensure that nothing untoward happened. He had even contemplated calling Olenna Tyrell’s house to speak to Margaery. He would find out when and where Sansa and Joffrey were meeting and do the job himself. In the end he had decided that while he trusted the older woman from his previous dealings with her he could not be so sure of the younger woman’s discretion so he never placed the call. He was now starting to regret it. He glanced at his watch. 

Almost 10pm. Should I ring her? No, she wouldn’t answer anyway. Please let her be alright. If anything happens it’s on me. I’m pretty sure she’s only seeing him because she’s angry with me, to hurt me. If I had handled it differently and not like some jealous old fool she might have cancelled the date but I drove her straight into his arms. She’s a bright girl so I can only hope that she sees him for what he really is before it’s too late. 

It had been a very long day. He had returned in the late afternoon to King’s Landing on a long haul flight and immediately called Lysa to tell her that he would not be making the trip to the Vale this weekend due to work commitments. He simply could not face the wretched woman in his current state of inner turmoil and exhaustion. Thankfully she had taken it with uncharacteristically good grace and no questions. He was sorely tempted to call it a night but he felt wired and doubted he would get any sleep. Instead he ran a shower, relishing the balm of the tingling hot drops of water as they massaged his head and shoulders. Drying off quickly he changed into black cotton pyjama pants and a black gold trimmed satin dressing gown, making his way down to the kitchen for a much needed strong black coffee. Settling into an armchair in his study he sipped the hot brew and stared absently into space. 

He was torn from his reveries by the chiming of the doorbell. He walked to the door sighing loudly; he wasn’t up for visitors particularly so late in the night. The form he saw silhouetted in the doorway was the last that he had expected to see.  
“Sansa?”  
She was partly illuminated by the soft glow from the nearby streetlamps and while his eyes had not yet adjusted to discern her clearly, he knew that something was very wrong.  
Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes wide and darting, she hugged herself fiercely and shivered, her face was wet with tears. He noticed that her thin red blouse was slightly torn at the shoulder and a button had been torn off. While it was cold outside she wore no coat.  
“Petyr, I’m sorry. Please help.”  
The words escaped her as little more than a tremulous whisper as she started to slump to the ground, her handbag thumping loudly onto the porch decking  
“Oh my God!”  
He caught her as she fell and scooped her into his arms, carrying her inside to the lounge room where he deposited her gently on a divan.  
“Sansa. Sweetheart. Wake up. Come on. Come back.”  
Her face was so pale, so still, he feared that she was slipping away from him. He rubbed gently at her face and patted her cheek, trying to rouse her. Eventually she began to stir weakly and opened her dazed and confused eyes, groaning.

“What happened? Petyr? Is that you?”  
“Yes, it’s me, Sansa dear. You passed out for a minute. Oh thank God you are alright.”  
He crushed her in a fierce embrace but loosened his grip when she winced and stiffened in his arms. Eventually she relaxed, settled her cheek against his chest and sobbed uncontrollably, her whole body trembling in shock. As he held her he took in the bruises around her neck, arms and wrists with growing disquiet. After she began to quieten he gently lifted her chin to look into her eyes.  
“How did you get here?”  
“Bus, walked.”  
“Oh sweetheart, you should have rung me. I would have picked you up. Did he do this to you?”  
“Yes,” she mumbled  
“Did he… did he rape you?”  
“No,” she whimpered. “He tried but he couldn’t seem to…you know, get hard.” She blushed and tried to look away.  
“He got angry then. He hurt me Petyr,” she sobbed.

He hugged her to him, more gently this time. His dressing gown had slipped open at his chest and he realised he could feel something damp. His eyes travelled down to the front of her blouse. There he spotted a deeper red stain that he had not previously noticed against the crimson of her garment.  
“Sansa, you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed.  
“He bit me,” she whimpered.  
“Let me see.” He reached for the buttons of her blouse but she whined and pulled away from him.  
“Oh God. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Don’t be scared honey, I need to look at the wound. I won’t hurt you. Please trust me.”  
“Okay, I do Petyr. I do trust you.”  
When he sensed that her body had slightly relaxed towards him he worked at the buttons and slowly, cautiously removed her blouse so as not to alarm her. Just above the line of her bra cup at her left breast was a crescent moon of teeth marks, several of them puncturing the skin enough to draw blood.

“I am going to kill that little fucker if it’s the last thing I do,” he seethed, no longer able to contain his rage.  
“No Petyr, don’t. It was my fault. He kissed me and I kissed him back but it didn’t feel like it did with ….. I didn’t like it. He was rough and when he looked at me his eyes were cruel and his hands were hurting me. I tried to push him off me but he yelled at me and called me a slut and a tease and then he….”  
Unable to continue, she dissolved into a fresh round of tears, sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.  
“Sansa,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. “This was not in any way your fault. This was all him. Once you said ‘no’ that should have been the end of it. There is never ever any justification for forcing or abusing a woman. I’m worried about this bite. Bites from humans are worse than bites from animals, more prone to infection.”  
“I thought you said you didn’t know everything.”  
He was heartened by a small return of her humour.  
“Maybe I lied. But seriously, this wound needs tending to. I’ll get some antiseptic solution from the bathroom and some gauze. Did he bite you anywhere else? Did he hurt you with his hands down there or with anything else when he couldn’t…?” he added delicately.  
Sansa blushed and she could not meet his eyes.  
“No. He only bit me once but he kept hitting me and grabbing at me. I kept my legs closed as tight as I could and I tried so hard to fight him. In the end he pushed me out of the car on to the sidewalk.”  
She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut as she recalled her ordeal. Petyr rubbed her shoulder gently to comfort her.

“Sansa, do your legs feel alright?”  
He could see light scuff marks on the fabric of her jeans but no tearing.  
“They feel sore here and there.”  
“I’m going to take you up to my bedroom. You’ll be more comfortable there and it’s right next to the bathroom where I keep all the first aid supplies. I want you to take off your jeans because I need to check out your legs. Can you do that for me?”  
“Yes Petyr.”  
“Good girl. Can you walk?”  
“I think so.” She tried to stand but her legs weakened underneath her and she plopped back down on to the couch. He picked her up and carried her up the stairs, her head nestled against his chest. Sitting her down on the king size bed, he switched on the bedside lamp.  
“I’ll leave you now. Just take off your jeans, and lie down and try to relax.”  
Suddenly she felt cold and bereft as Petyr moved away from her. She stretched her arms out to him, her eyes pleading.  
“Please don’t leave me alone, Petyr.”  
“It’s alright. I’ll be just in there,” he said pointing to the ensuite. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

Moments later Petyr reappeared with supplies in hand. His eyes widened when he took in the full extent of Joffrey’s damage for the first time. In addition to the bite which now looked angry and raw, the base of her neck was ringed with finger marks where he had clearly tried to asphyxiate her and her arms were covered in bruises. Disturbingly he could also see finger marks around her thighs where he had tried to prise her legs apart. The rest of her legs weren’t too bad in comparison to the rest of her body but she did have a very large contusion partly hidden by her underwear on her right hip where she had taken the brunt of the fall from the car. It took every ounce of his self-control not to drive over to the Baratheon mansion and throttle the life out of the little cunt.

He noted that Sansa’s body was rigid with fright and shock, her eyes wide and unblinking. Her arms were crossed over her chest as her natural sense of modesty and instinct for self-preservation asserted themselves. She shivered violently as though it was ice cold in the room although it was in fact comfortably heated.  
“I don’t know about this Sansa. I think maybe you need to go to the hospital.”  
That seemed to snap her out of her trance.  
“No Petyr, please. No hospital. I can’t. I just want you.”  
“At least let me call your mother.”  
“No, I don’t want her to know. I need you to help me Petyr. I don’t want anyone else to know.”  
“You should go to the police. He needs to be stopped.”  
“I can’t. I can’t stand there and tell a room full of people what happened. And his father would only find a way to get him off. They’ll try and drag my name through the mud. No police, Petyr.”

“I’ll take care of him. You can count on it,” he growled ominously  
“Please don’t hurt him. I know you’re angry, so am I. But I don’t want to be responsible for someone being hurt or worse, despite what he’s done. Just leave him be. I just want to forget it all happened. Please promise me.”  
He sat down next to her and smoothed her hair gently.  
“You are just like your mother. She never could stand to see someone hurt on her account. You are both too kind, but I’m not. I am not sure I can keep a promise like that.”  
“You have to. Please do it for me. It’s not just about him. I don’t want there to be any risk of you getting into trouble for hurting him. I won’t ask you for anything ever again. Please Petyr,” she pleaded.  
“Alright. You have my word,” he sighed.

“I’ll deal with the bite first. This might sting a little.”  
He dipped a cotton ball in a solution of warm water and antiseptic and lightly dabbed it on the wound. She winced once but otherwise made no movement and no sound. Once it had dried he shook some antiseptic powder over the area, and applied a gauze bandage over it.  
“How does that feel?”  
“Better, thank you Doctor.”  
He smirked at her.  
“Okay now I have some Arnica cream that will help with the bruising. Do you want to use the bathroom mirror and do it yourself?”  
“Can you please do it?”  
“Are you sure?”  
“I trust you Petyr.”

He squeezed a quantity from the tube onto his fingers and gently rubbed it into the marks around her neck and on her arms and wrists, using the lightest of touches. She still squirmed in obvious discomfort.  
“I’m sorry if it hurts, dear. It can’t be avoided.”  
He smoothed more ointment on to a smattering of bruises on her shins all the while checking her face for any signs of emotional disturbance. When he reached her thighs, he hesitated, chastising himself when he felt an unwelcome twitch between the legs.

What the fuck is the matter with me.

“It’s alright Petyr.”  
He took a deep breath and gently massaged ointment into the soft skin of her thighs trying not to think about this being the first time he had touched her bare skin there and how close his hands were getting to her sex. He looked at her face, worried that he would see terror there but her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her eyes snapped open when he stopped.  
“Okay we’re done. Flip over and I’ll check your back.”  
He was relieved to see that there was minimal damage to her back. Two small bruises at her shoulder blades and one at the small of her back, but other than that, she was unmarked.

“I’m going to leave you now. You need to apply the cream to the bruise on your hip. It looks nasty. Do you have any pain when you move?”  
“No, I don’t think there’s any damage other than the skin, if that’s what you mean.”  
“Okay, good.”  
He walked into his wardrobe and returned handing her a set of his black silk pyjamas.  
“They might be a bit big for you but if they are looser on your skin then it will be more comfortable for you.”  
“Are you coming back?”  
“Of course. I’m just going to go downstairs and get you some water and some paracetamol.”  
“Okay.” 

Sansa grabbed his hand. “Thank you Petyr. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have you.”  
“I told you I would always help you, Sansa. And I meant it. Lie down when you finish and try to get some rest. I won’t be long. But we also have to ring your mother. If you are staying here tonight we have to come up with a plausible story. When is she expecting you home?”  
“By Midnight.”  
“Okay, plenty of time. Can I ask you something?”  
“Fire away.”  
“Other than me, if you had to tell someone else what happened to you tonight who would you trust enough to tell?”  
“Margaery. She knows what Joffrey is like first hand. She tried to warn me but I was too stupid to listen.”  
“Not stupid. You gave him the benefit of the doubt but unfortunately he didn’t deserve it. Right, leave your mother to me. I’ll sort it.”


	9. Surprise Guest (Sansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter from Sansa's POV. Next up a bit of a darker side to Petyr

What on earth is he going to tell my mother? She’s pretty cluey.  
Sansa groaned as she moved from the bed and slipped down her panties to smooth some Arnica ointment on to the large dark contusion on her hip. When she had finished she pulled them back up, slipped into Petyr’s pyjamas and hugged herself gingerly. When she felt the soft silky material against her skin she could imagine his warm strong body against hers. Despite what she had been through earlier in the night, the softness and gentleness of his touch on her chest, her throat, her arms, and her thighs had been incredibly sensual. At first there had been pain and fear but that was soon overridden by an intense feeling of pleasure as he feathered his fingers over her. 

When he first touched her she had been frightened, remembering Joffrey’s hands on her in those places, but something told her she could trust Petyr completely and she had gradually allowed herself to relax and let the warmth and tingling of his touch wash over her. Something had been building up inside her – an intenseness that thrilled through her body - but it had receded when he stopped touching her. She had felt moistness seeping through her underpants. Hopefully he had not noticed her reaction. She was ashamed then, feeling that her body had somehow betrayed her. She shouldn’t be feeling like this, especially when Petyr’s intentions were simply to assuage her hurts. She sighed and lifting the bed covers she snuggled under the plump feather doona, hugging a pillow under her as she drifted to sleep with sweet memories of Petyr’s tender ministrations floating in her mind.

When she woke it was dark in the room but she could sense a presence next to her. As her eyes adjusted she could discern Petyr’s form slumped in a chair beside the bed, his head lolling to the side, fast asleep. Her heart swelled as she gazed at his handsome face, relaxed in his repose. 

Poor thing. He looked exhausted tonight. Last thing he needed was me dumping myself on his doorstep. 

She could not resist reaching out to stroke the side of his face, at which he stirred and opened his eyes.  
“Hi,” she smiled.  
“Hi.”  
“What time is it?”  
Petyr looked at his watch. “2.35am.”  
“Have you been sitting here this whole time?”  
“Yep. I didn’t want you to wake up alone in a strange place. How do you feel?”  
She stretched out her limbs experimentally.  
“Yeah. Okay. A bit stiff and sore but I’ll live.”  
“You were so fast asleep when I came up I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Do you need the pills? They’re here if you want them.”  
“No thank you Petyr but I’ll take some of the water.”  
He reached over and handed her the glass.

“What did you end up telling my mother?”  
“I didn’t. Margaery and her Grandmother did.”  
“What!? But -”  
“You said you trusted Margaery. I hope that was true. I trust her Grandmother and I know that the Tyrell’s have no love for the Baratheon’s.”  
“Yes I did and I do, but I never dreamed that you were actually going to tell her.”  
“I really had no choice. No matter what story involving myself that I tried to come up with, it wasn’t going cut the mustard with your mother. I had Margaery ring her to explain that she had bumped into you and Joffrey at the plaza after the film and that she had invited you over to stay the night. Margaery then put Olenna on the phone to confirm the invitation. And the best part is that your mother thinks you’re staying over there until Sunday afternoon. That will give you a chance to recover a little. When Olenna offered to have you stay longer I think your mother was happy that you had made a good friend so she questioned nothing.

“I gave Margaery this address. She dropped some clothes off for you earlier that she thinks will fit and some new underwear that hasn’t been worn. There’s a turtleneck jumper there to hide the bruises on your neck if they haven’t faded enough by the time you go home and some scarves. She wanted to come up and see you but it was late and we thought it would be best to let you sleep. She will come and pick you up from here and drop you home on Sunday in time for dinner. Done and dusted.”

Petyr crossed his arms over his chest, leant back in his chair and looked at Sansa rather smugly, she thought. She stifled a giggle at his self-satisfied expression.

However, the more she contemplated it Sansa, while impressed, was just as equally disturbed at how easily lying and scheming had come to him.  
“You are really good Petyr Baelish. That is one hell of a lie.”  
“You sound like you don’t entirely approve?”  
“I never approve of lying but there was no way around it on this occasion, I see that. So now Margaery and her Grandmother know everything.”  
“Yes. I have never heard an angrier, more disgusted pair of women in my life. If I had not told them that you didn’t want Joffrey harmed, they would have torn him limb from limb. When Margaery came here she was very upset. She blames herself for not trying harder to convince you.”  
Sansa shook her head vigorously.  
“No, she shouldn’t. Nothing about this is her fault. She has been nothing but a good friend to me.”  
“You know now that it’s not your fault either, don’t you?”  
“I do. I let Joffrey get to me, that’s all. But that isn’t going to happen ever again. I just don’t know how I’m going to face him at school.”  
“You won’t need to worry about that.”  
“Petyr! You promised me you wouldn’t do anything.”  
“No, as I recall I promised I wouldn’t hurt him. That’s not the same thing. Just leave him to me. He will no longer be a problem to you.” 

“I’m scared Petyr.”  
He stretched out his hand to stroke her hair.  
“I know you are but please don’t be. You are safe with me now. No one is ever going to touch you like that again.”  
Sansa caught Petyr’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips, planting a soft kiss against his palm.  
“Will you hold me Petyr? I need you.”  
“I don’t know if that is a good idea, Sansa.” Petyr eyed her dubiously.  
“Please Petyr. I just want to fall asleep with you next to me. I don’t want to be alone in the dark. Please.”  
He hesitated, then sighed, standing.  
“Okay. Scoot.”  
She shuffled further over in the bed to allow him room and settled onto her uninjured side allowing him to snuggle in behind her; he drew her closer with one arm. 

“This is so nice,” she whispered.  
“Mmmm,” he hummed in her ear.  
“Will you stay with me until the morning?”  
“If that’s what you want.”  
“I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up. I’ve missed you.”  
He kissed her lightly on the back of her head.  
“I’ve missed you too sweetheart. Go to sleep now. Try to get some rest.”  
“Petyr?”  
“Yes Sansa?”  
“I love you,” she whispered.  
There was complete silence from him but she noticed a slight hitch of his breath and he hugged her a little tighter before fatigue finally overwhelmed her.


	10. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this chapter today as the last one was rather a shorty. This is a mix of Sansa and Petyr POV as things take a bit of a dark turn. I hope you will like it.

Sansa woke to a gentle morning light filtering through the translucent curtaining of the large window of Petyr’s bedroom. Sometime during the night, she had turned in her sleep. Her face and hands were against Petyr’s chest, one of his arms and a leg were thrown over her. The sides of his dressing gown had separated slightly so she could feel his warm skin and the tickle of the sparse chest hair against her nose. She slid her hand underneath the edge of the gown to place her hand gently over his heart. As she did she could feel a strange slick of tough skin that seemed to trail away downwards. Fascinated, she began to trace the length of it down his torso with her forefinger until suddenly one of Petyr’s hands shot out and grabbed hers.

“What are you doing?”  
He was breathing heavily, his eyes boring into her.  
“Sorry Petyr,” she stammered. “Is that a scar? Did I hurt you?”  
“No you didn’t hurt me; it is from a long time ago…. Oh shit!”  
As his mind lifted from the fog of sleep he realised where his body was in relation to hers and quickly moved away from her, lying on his back and breathing deeply. She felt cold and empty without his body touching hers.  
“Won’t you come back?”  
“No. I can’t Sansa. You know that. Please don’t ask me again. This was a mistake.”  
He sounded frustrated.

“I’m sorry Petyr,” she mumbled. “Please don’t be angry with me.”  
He turned to face her and cradled the side of her face with one hand, his tense expression softening.  
“I’m not angry with you.”  
He leaned in to plant a quick kiss to her forehead.  
“Come on, I’ll run you a hot bath. Have a good soak. It will make you feel better. I’ll use the guest bathroom downstairs and then make us some breakfast.”  
“You’re actually going to cook?” she asked in feigned horror.  
Petyr chuckled in response.  
“If you can call it that. Come here you.”  
He grabbed her hand and helped her from the bed, leading her to the ensuite.  
“I’ve got some bath salts if you want some.”  
“Yes please, sounds wonderful.”

After a few minutes the tub was full.  
“There are some towels there for you and here is some shampoo. The clothes that Margaery dropped over are in that bag over there on the vanity. Your handbag is there too. I’ve left the Arnica cream because you’ll need to reapply it. Try to keep the bite wound dry if you can. Let me know if you need anything else.”  
“Thank you Doctor Petyr. You think of everything. You don’t want to join me, do you?” she asked coquettishly.  
“Sansa”, he said in a tone of warning edged with humour.  
“It was worth a try. And you called me a party pooper,” she smirked.  
He mussed her hair fondly.  
“Enjoy your bath. I’ll see you downstairs.”

After he left closing the door of the ensuite behind him she shrugged off the pyjamas and her underwear and lowered herself gratefully into the steaming hot water, relishing the all-enveloping warmth as the salts worked to sooth her aching muscles and her tender skin. She thought about his body touching hers when they had slept and the manly scent of his skin. She had wanted nothing more when she woke than to explore his body fully. A shiver passed through her body as a pleasant tingling developed between her legs at the thought. As she lay there she wondered where Petyr planned on sleeping tonight. After some time of luxuriating and daydreaming she massaged some shampoo through her hair and rinsed it, squeezing out the excess water. She stepped from the tub and towelled herself dry, wrapping her hair in a second towel. Surveying her reflection in the mirror she noticed that the bruising around her neck and arms was not as bad as she had been expecting but were still visible. She smoothed the Arnica cream over them and over the contusion on her hip which was definitely the worst of the bunch.  
Rifling through the bag of clothes that Margaery kindly left her she dragged out a pair of panties. Margaery was a larger size than her so they were a bit loose but serviceable; the bras were out of the question: way too big. She concealed herself in a t-shirt and a thick loose v neck knitted sweater. The sweatpants she found next were also wide at the hips but unnoticeably so underneath the length of the sweater. She dug around in her handbag for her hairbrush and stroked it through her damp hair. 

As she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen a delicious waft of food smells assaulted her nose. Petyr, his hair slightly damp and dishevelled and dressed in black jeans and a faded t-shirt, was stationed at the stove, stirring away at some scrambled eggs. Rashers of bacon sizzled aggressively in another. She had never seen him quite so casual before and so obviously comfortable in his own skin. It was such a contrast to his usual carefully constructed neat and buttoned-up image. His face was free of the fatigue and tension of the previous night; he looked youthful, beautiful: a man in his prime. She drank in the sight, hoping that this would not be the last time that she saw him like this. She fought a powerful urge to launch herself at him and kiss him wildly. 

“Great timing,” he said without looking up. “Nearly done. Take a seat.”  
He gestured vaguely in the direction of the island bench where two bar stools sat.  
“I like your kitchen. I could have a lot of fun in here,” Sansa enthused as she took in the impressive modern expanse of bright white tiles and stainless steel.  
“Yeah it’s pretty much wasted on me but sometimes comes in handy.”  
He brought over two plates piled high with fluffy creamy eggs and crispy bacon along with some toast that had just popped from the toaster. He stopped to look at her, grinning.  
“What?” asked Sansa disconcerted.  
“You look adorable in those clothes. They are a bit big on you. Really cute.”  
“Shut up. I’m starving,” she said blushing as she dug in to the eggs enthusiastically.  
“You’d have to be to eat my cooking.”  
“You are so full of shit Baelish; these eggs are to die for! Don’t you dare say you can’t cook. That is a bare-faced lie.”  
“Well, in fairness the pig and the chicken did most of the work. And everything tastes better with bacon anyway.”  
“That’s so true.” She crunched away at the bacon appreciatively.  
“Would you like an OJ or a coffee?  
“No thanks, I’m good.”  
They ate on in amiable silence until both of their plates were empty. Sansa rubbed her belly in contentment.  
“Oh God, I’m so stuffed. That really hit the spot. Thank you.”  
“We aim to please.”

*******************  
After Sansa helped Petyr to stack the dirty plates and pans in the dishwasher he turned to her.  
“Sansa. I’m just going to leave you for a little bit. I need to work on my laptop in the study; it’s business that can’t wait. Feel free to look around, make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long.  
“Okay, no worries.”  
He walked briskly to the study and closed the door behind him. Sitting at his desk and flipping open his laptop, he proceeded to open up a fake email account. He began typing, his fingers stabbing angrily at the keyboard.

 

Baratheon,  
It would appear that your vicious little cunt of a son has been at it again. We both know what happened the last time he got too frisky with a girlfriend. In case your memory is slipping, feel free to peruse the attached file. I think you will find it enlightening. I am sure the police would agree.

I suggest that you might want to strongly encourage Junior to do a disappearing act. No, allow me to be more direct. If he is spotted anywhere near King’s Landing on Monday I will arrange a disappearing act for him, a more permanent one similar to the one you arranged for the girl.

I trust I have made myself abundantly clear.

 

Petyr searched his documents folder for the correct file and opened it. He scrolled through the pictures that he had not viewed since the first time they were sent to him by his investigator. They were truly sickening: murky but still discernible images of Robert Baratheon and his son disposing of a young woman’s body, hauling it into the boot of a car. A close-up of the body revealed ligature marks around her neck. Her hands were bound with zip ties. Her face was a mess of bruises and cuts, one eye blackened and swollen shut, her lip split and bloody. Despite the damage inflicted, the woman was still recognisably Kathryn Bartell.

He ran continual surveillance on a select group of his business associates – those that had crossed him or that he believed had the potential for doing so and those who could yield up information that would be of benefit to him in the future. Robert and Joffrey had been watched for some time when it came to his investigator’s attention that the Bartell girl was acting strangely. Joffrey had been cautious and conducted his affairs behind tightly closed doors but the girl when spotted appeared downcast and depressed. She wore clothing that could be reasonably construed as cover-ups for injuries but Joffrey had always been careful to leave her face unmarked. On the night of the murder they got sloppy, perhaps out of panic, and that was their downfall. Petyr’s man was there to document the whole sordid tragic affair.

Petyr sighed deeply and shook his head in growing disgust as he scanned the pictures. Such a beautiful girl, such a waste of life and potential. Had he any inkling that Joffrey would go that far, he would have intervened, spirited her away somehow. But he had been too late. That miscalculation had been one of his biggest regrets. He thanked God he had held on to these pictures for a rainy day but had never anticipated in his wildest dreams the purpose for which they were now being put.  
As he looked again at the close-up shot of Kathryn he transposed her face with Sansa’s and registered how close he had been to losing her and it would have been his fault. He closed the file with a grunt of contempt, attached it to the email and hit Send.

Fuck you, arseholes.


	11. An Unwelcome Visitor

It was 10am when Petyr emerged from his study and strolled into the lounge room. Sansa was perched on a divan in the corner of the room, wringing her hands and staring fixedly in front of her. Tears were streaming down her face but she made no attempt to wipe them away. Her upper body was ramrod straight.  
Oh shit.  
“Sansa sweetheart, what is it?”  
He sat next to her and touched her arm; she flinched away from him.  
“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re scaring me, please talk to me. Please look at me.”  
She turned slowly to face him, her voice trembling and small.  
“I was just sitting here and all of a sudden it was like I was actually back in the car with him. I remembered it all; every small detail. I remembered the smell of the leather seats in his car, the song that was playing on the radio. I remembered what it felt like when he kissed me, how he tasted, his smell, and his hands all over me. It was so real. Will it always be like this Petyr?”  
She started to sob.  
“Can I hold you Sansa?”  
She nodded. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her cheek to his chest.  
“What you are going through now is completely normal. It will take time but it will get better. Maybe you should see a professional, talk it through.”  
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget.”  
“Okay. I worry for you though. If you change your mind I will find you the best counsellor I can. I know it probably isn’t comfortable for you to talk to me about everything that went on but I am always here for you. If you can’t talk to me then lean on Margaery. I know she will completely have your back.”

Sansa sniffled but seemed to have regained some composure. She sat up to regard him.  
“Thanks Petyr. Margaery is such a good friend especially for someone I’ve only known for a couple of weeks. You met her. What do you think of her?”  
“I thought she was amazing. Very level headed, clear thinking, decisive. She obviously cares a lot about you so she is a good sort in my book.”  
“Do you think she’s pretty?”  
Sansa’s voice sounded small and vulnerable.  
“Yes, but not as pretty as you.”  
He chucked her under the chin. She blushed lightly and smiled.  
“She thinks you’re hot.”  
Sansa clapped a hand across her mouth but of course the horse had already bolted and the words had slipped out before she could stop them.  
He grinned mischievously, the skin around his eyes crinkling, his dimples deepening.  
“Does she now? That should make for an interesting time tomorrow afternoon when she comes to pick you up.”  
“Petyr!” she exclaimed, slapping his arm.  
“Don’t you dare say anything to her. I shouldn’t have told you.”  
“Relax. I’m not going to say anything directly but a guy can have a bit of harmless fun, can’t he?”  
“Oh God,” she groaned. 

“What are we going to do today?” she asked quickly changing the subject.  
“I have to go and do some shopping for dinner. I wasn’t expecting visitors so the fridge is pretty empty. Or I can get Marcos at the restaurant to deliver some food.”  
“I would love to cook for you and I could do with the distraction. I’ll come with you to the shops.”  
“No Sansa. We can’t risk being seen together. Do you think you will be okay on your own?”  
“Yes. If you show me where you keep your music I’ll put a CD on to take my mind off things.”  
“Okay, if you’re sure.”  
“I’m sure. I’ll write out a list of the stuff I need. I don’t know about you but I feel like I over-indulged this morning. How about something light and vegetarian – stuffed aubergines maybe?”  
“Sounds good to me.”  
“Okey dokey.”  
Sansa scribbled out a list of ingredients and handed them to Petyr.  
I’ll try not to be too long. The CD cabinet is right there in the corner. Here, I’ll turn it all on so it’s ready to go.”  
He flicked on the player and the tuner for her and kissed her on the cheek before heading out the door.  
“Try not to disturb the neighbours. I have a reputation to uphold.”  
“No doom metal then, huh?”  
“Preferably not.”

Sansa scanned Petyr’s CD collection and settled on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’. She sank into a plush leather armchair adjacent to the stereo curling her legs up under her as she let the music waft over her. She had listened to the first two tracks when suddenly a rattle of keys sounded at the door. Sansa jumped from the chair and ran towards the door.  
“Petyr, did you forget something?”  
The door swung open but it wasn’t Petyr. It was a woman.  
“Aunt Lysa!”  
Both women froze in shock.  
“Sansa, what on earth are you doing here?”  
Oh my God.  
Sansa could feel the blood draining from her face and a sickening wave of nausea.  
“Um. Mr Baelish has been, um, helping me with my Maths and Economics study,” she stammered.  
“Yes. He told me about it, as did your mother. But I didn’t know you came over here to study and I thought it was on Mondays and Fridays. And I thought he said he had work commitments this weekend.”  
The woman’s eyes had narrowed to slits, her voice hard as granite. Sansa’s brain raced.  
“He couldn’t make it on Friday – something about work – so he offered to make up for it today but Arya was being a brat and noisy at ours so he suggested we come over here. He’s still working – he’s been making work phone calls and answering emails in between helping me. He’s just popped out to the shops. We both needed a break,” she dissembled desperately.  
“I see. Come and give your Aunt a kiss then, dear.”

Sansa stepped closer to Lysa to plant a peck on her cheek. To her astonishment Lysa grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck and yanked her head back exposing her throat. Sansa cried out in pain and shock.  
“What’s this then, you little slut,” she hissed poking her bony finger at the bruises on Sansa’s throat and neck.  
Lysa grabbed at the sleeves of her jumper pulling them upwards and spied further bruises on her wrists and arms.  
“I – I –.”  
In her shock at Lysa’s unexpected visit, Sansa had completely forgotten about the bruises and could not think quickly enough to formulate a response.  
“You’ve been sleeping with him you whore!” she screamed. “I knew he liked it a bit rough sometimes but this is over the top. What else do you let him do to you,” she spat.  
“No, you’ve got it all wrong. We haven’t. Petyr didn’t do this.”  
“Fucking shut up you lying little bitch!”  
Lysa shoved Sansa aside and bolted up the staircase to Petyr’s room.  
Oh Jesus. All my stuff’s in there. I left Petyr’s pyjamas in the bathroom tangled with my underwear. She’ll know I slept in his bed. Please Petyr come back now; I can’t deal with this on my own.

Moments later Lysa reappeared at the top of the staircase, her face stricken, tears streaming down her face.  
“You actually did it, you little cunt. You were in his bed. You fucked my Petyr. How could you do this to me?”  
“Aunt Lysa, no. It’s not what it looks like.”  
Lysa slowly made her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she lunged at Sansa and slapped her fiercely in the face. But then, just as Sansa cringed expecting the woman to come at her with talons bared, the older woman stood frozen, staring straight into her eyes. Her voice was ice and steel.  
“I’ve been such a fool. He’s done nothing but go on and on about his beautiful, smart niece. Why didn’t I see it? You two are going to regret this. I will destroy you both. Do you know the penalties for men his age who fuck underage girls?”  
“No, you can’t do that,” cried Sansa desperately. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”  
“Well you would say that. You don’t want to lose your lover. I understand that. He is an amazing lover. I can attest to that.”  
“You have to listen to me Aunt Lysa. Nothing happened. I swear to you. I wanted it to, I did, I admit it, but he didn’t want me. He only wants you,” she pleaded.  
Lysa lowered her voice to little more than a whisper.  
“If you speak again, I will end you, you little slut.”  
Sansa swallowed hard.

“Here’s how it’s going to be. I’m leaving now. You tell that fucking bastard to call me on Monday. I don’t want him flying up to see me, I don’t want to hear from him before Monday. Do you understand?”  
“Yes. I don’t care what you do to me but are you going to report him? Please don’t do that. I’ll do anything you ask. Please. If you love him at all you won’t do that to him,” Sansa sobbed.  
“I told you to shut the fuck up. I’m not going to tell you again. I’m not discussing my love or otherwise for that lying prick with you. Just give him the goddamn message.”  
With that she headed for the door but turned around one last time, a look of loathing distorting her face.  
“You two are totally disgusting. He is old enough to be your father. If your own father was alive to see you now, what do you think he would say?”  
The door slammed and Sansa heard the sound of car tyres squealing down the driveway. She slumped to the floor nursing her stinging face, curled up into the foetal position and sobbed uncontrollably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been nasty to Sansa again, haven't I? But I'm about to make it up to her in a big way!! Yessss. The long awaited smut chapter up next.


	12. The Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just because I know how much you guys hate reading smut (LOL)- here it is at long last.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there when she heard the door open and saw a pair of black men’s Converse shoes running towards her.  
“Sansa! I knew I shouldn’t have left you.”  
Petyr’s face came into view as he knelt down beside her, his eyes filled with concern.  
“What…what’s that mark on your face? Did someone hit you? Oh Sweet Jesus, was that little fucker here? How did he find you?” he railed.  
“No. No. No,” she cried. “Not him it was her.”  
“What do you mean ‘her’? Who Sansa?”  
“Aunt Lysa.”  
Petyr was stunned, rocking back on his heels to sit with a thump on the floor.  
“What? Shit! What the hell was she doing here?”  
Sansa sniffled as she sat up wearily. “I don’t know Petyr. I guess she came to surprise you. SURPRISE! Guess that didn’t work out so well, for anybody.”  
“What did you say to her? What did she say to you?”  
“I told her I was here to study with you but she saw my bruises Petyr. She thought you did it to me. She thought we had rough sex together. I tried to tell her she had it all wrong but she ran upstairs before I could stop her. She saw the state of the ensuite and the bedroom. I can’t blame her for jumping to the wrong conclusion. I would have too.”  
“And then she hit you,” he said in disgust.  
“Then she hit me. Bit sick of being a punching bag. I told her that you only wanted her and not me, but she wouldn’t believe me. She said terrible things to me Petyr. She said my father would be ashamed of me.”  
At this, she started to sob again.

“I’m so incredibly sorry Sansa. This should never have happened: I shouldn’t have left you alone.  
Petyr reached across to sooth her reddened cheek and wipe away the tears with a delicate touch.  
“Sansa, it’s okay. I’ll make it right…somehow. I’ll go up to see her. She’ll listen to me eventually.”  
“I don’t know Petyr,” she sniffled. “She was so furious. She doesn’t even want to hear from you straight away. She wants you to call her on Monday – call her, not visit. She was really specific about it.”  
“Is there something else you’re not telling me?”  
“She threatened you. She threatened to report you for having underage sex with me.”  
“Oh my God. That woman is detestable sometimes,” he snarled.  
“She’s angry Petyr. If I was engaged to you and I thought that someone was going to take you away from me, I would be too. And it doesn’t help that I am family. That makes the betrayal so much worse. I never wanted to hurt her. I feel terrible,” she mumbled.  
Petyr stared at her in awe.  
“There you go again, making allowances, forgiving, seeing the good, putting others first even after everything that’s happened to you. You amaze me Sansa Stark. Come on get up from there, come and sit with me.”

He hoisted her up from the floor by her hands and walked backwards to the large leather armchair by the stereo. He settled in, pulling her on to his lap to sit sideways, her chin resting on top of his head, his arms around her holding her close.  
She sighed. “What are we going to do? What are you going to say to her?”  
“Honestly I have no idea. Luckily I have some time to think it through. And hopefully she’ll calm down a little in the meantime.”  
“What if she reports you, Petyr? You can’t go to prison. I can’t lose you.”  
“Nah. Not gonna happen. Orange isn’t my colour and from what I heard the food is not up to my usual standards.”

Sansa rolled her eyeballs in frustration.  
“Normally I would stand on burning coals to hear examples of your shining wit, but now is not one of those times. This is serious Petyr,” she admonished.  
He took her face in his hands and stared at her earnestly.  
“She spoke and acted out of fear and anger. She was trying to scare you. She wouldn’t do that to me. She has wanted me for years. She’s not about to throw it all away when she thinks she is so close to getting what she wants.”  
“But what do you want, Petyr? Do you love her?”  
He sighed deeply. “No, I don’t love her. I’ve never loved her.”  
“Then I don’t understand. Why are you marrying her?”  
“Perhaps I feel that it is exactly what I deserve.”  
Sansa was appalled.  
“What on earth can you mean by that? If you think you don’t deserve to love and be loved equally, you’re so wrong.”  
“Wages of my sins,” he smirked mirthlessly.

“That’s rubbish. I don’t know what you’ve done in your past and I don’t really want to know. You’ve hinted enough that you’ve done some pretty bad things and I’ve heard rumours. But you are really amazing. You come off so controlled and perfect. But underneath, is the real you. I’ve seen it. Only now and then, but when it’s happened I’ve liked what I’ve seen. You’re messed up and funny and wonderful. I don’t know what has made you the way you are. Someone must have hurt you pretty badly for you to give up on being happy. Please don’t give up.”  
Petyr exhaled loudly.  
“Sansa. If you only knew half of the things I’ve done you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now. You’d be running as fast as your legs could carry you, as far away from me as you could possibly get.”  
“That will never happen. So, I’m going to ask you again: what do you want?”  
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I can never have it.”  
“Do you want me Petyr?”

His breathing hitched and he did not answer straight away. Eventually he replied, his voice a rough rasp as though the words escaping him were causing him physical pain as they tore from his throat.  
“Of course I want you. I would be a fool if I didn’t.”  
“Do you love me? Tell me. Just say it. It’s either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. If it’s ‘yes’ then this may be the only opportunity we have to be together. If it is a ‘no’ as much as it would kill me, I’ll walk out that door right now. You can marry Aunt Lysa and I’ll never trouble you again. But I need to hear you say it either way.”  
Sansa took a deep breath not quite believing the words that had bubbled out of her but knowing that they were true and that what Petyr did next would change their lives irrevocably.  
He hesitated, his face a zone of warring emotions. She sighed and began to move away from him but he grabbed her at the waist and pulled her back down. His voice sounded ragged and tired.  
“Please don’t go Sansa,” he added quietly.

He had not said the words but she could read them in his eyes – those eyes that very occasionally revealed as much as they concealed.  
She placed her fingers under his chin and lifted his face to hers.  
“I’m not going anywhere. Kiss me?”  
“Yes. But if I do I’m not going to stop at a kiss this time. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”  
“Yes.”  
“Even after what happened to you last night? I’m afraid that it’s too soon.”  
“I’m sure. Now shut up and kiss me. You talk too much,” she grinned.  
He smiled with his eyes as he brought his lips to hers in a warm and gentle kiss.

Sansa’s whole body responded to Petyr’s kiss – his touch was so delicate and incredibly tender. She felt a flush of heat from her toes all the way to her face, a tingling settling between her legs, a sweet cramping low in her belly. She prayed he would be true to his word and not stop as he had on the other occasions. She moved to straddle him to bring their bodies closer. Petyr groaned as she settled right over his groin. One of his hands wove into her hair and pressed her face firmly to his, his other hand held her body against his at the small of her back as the kiss deepened. She parted her lips to allow his tongue access. This inflamed him, his hands travelling over and around her body as his tongue eagerly, hungrily sought hers. After some time, he broke the kiss to suck and kiss at her neck at the sensitive spot just under her earlobe. She moaned as her pleasure intensified. His hands swept lightly up and down her arms, the tips of his fingers just grazing the sides of her breasts with each pass. She took a deep breath and stopped him long enough to pull her t-shirt and jumper up over her head, throwing them to the floor and exposing her breasts.  
“Mmmm. No bra. That’s a nice surprise,” he grinned as Sansa blushed deeply under his scrutiny.  
He grimaced when he saw the bandage on her chest and was careful to avoid the spot as he delicately ran his fingers over the flesh of her breast, brushing lightly across the already hardened nipple.  
“Oh God,” she moaned as her whole body tensed from the intensity of the sensation.  
“Mmm. You like that?” he hummed.  
“If you stop I swear I’ll throw you in jail myself.”

His thumb continued to brush over her nipple while he leant down to take her other nipple tenderly in his mouth. He captured it gently around the base between his teeth and flicked the tip with his tongue. Her head fell back and small whimpers now escaped her as she felt delicious twinges assault her belly. She registered a heat and wetness developing between her legs as he pinched and ground one nipple between forefinger and thumb and sucked and licked more forcefully on the other, taking more of her breast into his mouth. She could feel his growing erection underneath her and whimpered at the fluttering sensation it caused in her core. She started to pant and to grind down on him, craving something else, something more, something undefined but palpable.  
“Petyr, please. More,” she gasped.  
“Greedy little girl,” he breathed. “And you call me greedy. Stand up.”  
As she unfolded from him he stood and grabbed at the waist of her sweatpants and gently tugged them down her legs, then did the same with her panties, leaving her completely naked before him. She trembled under a gaze that regarded her with undisguised desire and from the sweet physical tension building in her body.  
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said breathily as he regarded her slender form: the gentle curves of her breasts and hips, the long elegant limbs, the small thatch of red hair at the apex of her milky thighs.

He closed in and ran his hands slowly down her bare back to her bottom and crushed her to him, pushing her mound against his hardened member. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his shoulders with this new contact; he moved his fingers down around the globes of her bottom until they were very close to her sex. Sansa started to grind against him in desperation, panting heavily. He kissed at the side of her neck and shuffled her backwards never breaking contact, to sit her back down on the edge of the chair. Gently separating her legs, Petyr knelt down between them and pushed on her shoulders to lay her back. He lifted one leg to drape it over his shoulder and trailed his forefinger lazily down her inner thigh, reaching the thatch of her hair where he teased while not quite touching her flesh. She squirmed and moaned; her hips bucked upwards, needing, willing him to make contact. He was driving her crazy with want. Eventually his finger grazed feather light along the length of her folds, eliciting a sharp cry. The intensity of the feeling after the long drawn out anticipation was almost painful. He gradually worked upwards to find her sensitive nub, rubbing it gently with his thumb in circular motions while moving his fingers lightly between her folds. She could feel how slickly his fingers moved across her, so wet was she with her arousal.  
“Petyr, oh God” she cried out loudly, her face aflame.

While continuing to massage her clit and slick her folds with a deft touch, he kissed down her throat, her sternum and over her belly. He shifted slightly and commenced a searing trail of kisses and licks down the inside of her thigh, gradually nearing her sex.  
Holy Hell, he’s not going to kiss me down there?  
She whined as she felt his warm wet tongue slide along her folds, gently massaging between and over them, while his hands reached for her nipples grinding them between forefinger and thumb. She mewled and began to tremble as she neared her climax, building and building, her back arching, her head thrown back in ecstasy, lips parted, panting, her forehead slicked with perspiration. His tongue swirled over her clit until he nibbled at it gently, finally sending her over the edge. She cried out as her body was wracked by wave after wave of sweet throbbing cramps, emanating from her core. Petyr placed two fingers gently just between her folds and massaged to prolong her climax. She ground against his hand and clenched her thighs as the throbbing began to fade, eking out the last of her pleasure. Gradually she began to quieten, her rapid breathing slowing; her body slumped as the relief from all the built up sweet tension washed over her. Petyr stroked her hair and kissed her deeply, his eyes boring into her. She could taste herself on his lips. Breaking the kiss he brushed his forefinger across her swollen bottom lip and grinned at her.

“Nice?”  
Sansa nodded, her eyes shining with tears as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her.  
“That was incredible. I feel…. I can’t even say how I feel,” she murmured into his neck.  
“That was just the start.”  
“I love you Petyr. I want to see you, touch you. I want to make you feel good too.”  
With that she moved her hand to his crotch and squeezed, eliciting a loud groan from Petyr. He was already hard, so stimulated was he by watching Sansa in her passion. He grabbed at her hand, removing it from him.  
She frowned in concern.  
“Did I do something wrong?”  
“No dear but if you keep doing that, this is going to end much earlier than planned. Let’s continue this upstairs.” 

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet scooping her into his arms. He climbed the stairs, her face cradled against his chest, feeling the strong and rapid beat of his heart.  
He deposited her gently on the bed and sat down next to her.  
“Can I unwrap my present now?” she asked with a grin, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt.  
“Thought you’d never ask.”  
She lifted the shirt up over his head to reveal his chest. His abdominal muscles were taut and toned with a sparse sprinkling of chest hair. His arms were strong and lightly muscled. The perfection she saw there was marred only by a large deep pink scar that tore down the left side of his body starting at the base of his throat and disappearing underneath the waistline of his jeans.  
That’s what I felt this morning. How on earth did that happen? I’ll have to ask him about it but now isn’t the time.  
She pushed at his shoulders indicating for him to lie down on his back as she leant over him, her hair feathering his chest. Fascinated, she stretched out her hand to slowly trace the scar down its length until she reached his jeans. His breathing hitched and his gaze intensified as he followed her progress.  
“Does it disgust you?”  
She could not miss the vulnerable edge to his tone when he spoke.  
“Nothing about you could ever disgust me,” she cried, staring at him in earnest. As if to reinforce her statement she started to kiss, retracing the trail her fingers had travelled earlier. 

Petyr’s breathing quickened as he registered how close her face was getting to his crotch. He tangled his hand through her hair and gently pressed her face to him.  
She unbuttoned his jeans with trembling fingers and pulled at the zip, sliding his jeans over his narrow hips with his assistance and pulling them free; they were tossed unceremoniously to the floor. She took a moment to drink in the sight of his stiffening cock straining at the fabric of his black trunks before reaching for them and slipping them down his legs, throwing them to join the jeans. His member sprang up as it was released from its confinement; Sansa stared at it enthralled. It was big, bigger than she had been expecting although she was not sure exactly what she had been expecting. She had never seen a man’s naked organ up close and in the flesh before – she thought it was strange but beautiful, dangerous, powerful and utterly compelling. She smiled and reached out tentatively but realised she was unsure exactly what to do next. Reading about it and talking about it was far different to being faced with the reality. She looked up at Petyr shyly, biting her bottom lip nervously, her face flushed .  
“Don’t worry. You do what feels right. Anything you do down there will be great for me; I can teach you many things but this is about you now.”

She smiled at him as her forefinger trailed delicately from the base of his shaft upwards and over the head, prompting a low moan from Petyr. She was captivated by the silky softness of the skin, contrasting with the hot hardness underneath. Taking her cue from the way he had pleasured her she leaned her face closer and placed her lips at the base moving ever closer to the head of his shaft, planting soft kisses and the occasional lick as she went. She then licked and sucked gently over the head and pressed her lips firmly down right on the tip just as her small hand encircled the base and squeezed. She moved her hand up and down his shaft a few times unsure if she was holding him too tightly or not tightly enough, moving too quickly or not quickly enough.  
“Fuck”, Petyr rasped as he grabbed her face with his hands, drawing her to him in a crushing kiss, his tongue thrusting aggressively into her mouth. She tensed in shock as she felt his now fully hardened cock pressing hotly right against her sex but was overcome with an overwhelming need to intensify the sensation by arching her back to rub herself against him. Feeling how slick with wetness she had become, Petyr broke the kiss breathing hard, shifting his weight slightly from her.  
“Sansa we need to use protection.”  
He reached across to the bedside table and yanked open the top drawer, withdrawing a small cardboard box. He extracted a condom and sheathed himself. She was panting hard as she watched him with growing anticipation, a frisson of fear assailing her as she imagined his large organ entering her and the pain that would inevitably follow. He must have sensed her apprehension because he stopped to stroke her face gazing at her intently.  
“Are you alright? We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to.”  
“I want to. I want you,” she panted. 

After another slight hesitation he kissed her lips softly and then trailed his mouth down her throat, over her collarbone and to her breast where he swirled his tongue around and over her hard nipple. All the while he rocked against her, his member slicking along her moist folds. Shifting position he reached down and found her clit, rubbing it in a slow circular motion with one finger. Sansa started to moan as she gradually built up to her climax once again. Gently and slowly he inserted a finger into her and then a second as her muscles gradually stretched to accept the intrusion. He moved his fingers inside her as she moaned and rocked her hips, pressing herself into his hand. Sensing she was ready, Petyr removed his hand and lined himself up at her entrance. Her body went rigid and she gasped as she felt a warm bluntness nudge at her sex.  
“Sshh. It will be okay. I’ll go slowly. Do you trust me?”  
She nodded and gave him a small shaky smile of encouragement. 

When he felt her body relax slightly he pushed ever so gently into her but only partly, allowing her time to adjust to this new feeling of invasion that she had never experienced before. She let out a small whimper but there was no pain, just a tight discomfort. Gradually he pushed in further until suddenly he gave a small sharp thrust. Her back arched and she cried out with the hot flash of pain that tore through her, tears stinging her eyes.  
“I’m sorry sweetheart. Sssh. Breathe for me. The worst is over.”  
After a moment he began to push ever so slowly into her, entering her a little more each time. As he felt her muscles adjusting he began to quicken his pace ever so slightly and to vary the depth and the angle of his thrusts as she moaned beneath him.  
“You feel amazing, so soft and warm and wet and tight,” he soothed as he peppered her face with kisses, attempting to distract her from the pain.

As he moved within her she still felt discomfort but slowly it was overtaken by the pleasurable feeling of him inside her. He changed his position and angled his thrusts to search for a more sensitive spot that would help bring her over the edge. He was rewarded with small cries from Sansa as the delicious friction hit its mark, bringing her close, ever closer to her climax. He increased the pressure of his finger on her nub and continued his thrusts.  
“Let go Sansa, let yourself go for me,” he rasped as he strained to withhold his own release.  
With a final sobbing cry she stiffened as wave upon wave of throbbing pulsations wracked her body. Petyr continued to thrust into her intensifying her pleasure. He reached the limit of his endurance as the walls of her sex clamped and fluttered around him. With a couple more deep thrusts, his body tensing, he grimaced and groaned as he too found his release.

Panting with his exertion, he collapsed on top of her, hugging her tightly, breathing noisily and hotly against the skin of her neck. They lay relishing the last fading notes of their pleasure, the hot moist skin of their bodies melded together. Sansa winced in discomfort when he pulled from her and rolled to her side. After disposing of the spent condom in a small bin by the side of the bed, he reached out to stroke her cheek. That was when he noticed the tears streaming down her face.  
“Sansa, dear. Are you okay? Did it hurt that much? I didn’t scare you, did I?”  
He hugged her to him smoothing her hair and whispering soothing words to her, feeling her hot tears on his chest. Eventually she stilled.  
“Better now?” he asked concerned.  
“The pain wasn’t so bad and I wasn’t scared,” she whimpered. “I am so happy. I wanted you to stay inside me. Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to lose you.”  
She finished on a sob, her tears starting afresh. He tightened his embrace as she gave in to the heightened emotions of the moment.


	13. A Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more fluff and smut before things go a bit pear-shaped. You didn't think it was going to last did you?  
> A big thank you to those who left kudos for getting me over the 100 mark. Yay! You are awesome.

As they lay snuggled together, the last of Sansa’s tears drying on his chest, he pondered how different this experience had been to his previous sexual encounters. He had only taken one virgin many years before under very different circumstances and not ones he cared to recall. The women he had bedded since tended to be more experienced. He had always been the kind of lover who gained more satisfaction if his partner was fulfilled so he was not one to ignore the needs of his women. But with his other partners there was less solicitousness involved, less pre-occupation with their welfare and more focus on the pleasure – on uncomplicated giving and taking. But upon reflection he was surprised to realise that there was not one single aspect of his lovemaking with Sansa that had disappointed him. 

It had been as close to perfection as he could have wished for. He realised that he had cared infinitely more about her well-being and her pleasure than his own. To see her face flushed with desire for him, her need to please him, her eyes wild with the lust and the agony of her pleasure, her delicious sweet cries, her body hot and trembling beneath him, had almost undone him completely. It was only with the control born of experience and age that he had been able to delay his release until she had found hers. And when it finally came, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. He stroked Sansa’s hair and understood that perhaps for the first time in his troubled, plague-filled life, he had found the one person, the only person who could make him truly happy. He felt elation and profound disquiet in equal measure.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he whispered but he knew that was not a promise he was in any position to make and Sansa knew it too. If Lysa was determined to tear them apart he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to prevent it. He clenched his eyes shut trying to dispel a vision that came unbidden to him of Lysa and himself in bed on their impending wedding night, her groping, aggressive and needy want of him suffocating and cloying. He imagined what a lifetime of this punishment would be like and wondered if this weekend was the one and only time that he would ever be with Sansa. The very real possibility of losing her compelled him to crush her tightly against him to assure himself that, for the moment at least, she was still there. She immediately hugged him back, perhaps understanding the direction his thoughts had taken, sharing his dread and apprehension.

“Are you happy Petyr? Your eyes are so sad.”  
“I am.Very. I don’t think you understand how special you are Sansa Stark. Always remember how special you are, how special you are to me, no matter what happens,” he said, staring earnestly into her eyes.  
“You are the most beautiful man. I am so happy that my first time was with you. Thank you for being so kind to me,” she smiled shyly.  
“It is me who should be thanking you. I know what you gave me. It was a gift and it was freely given. I feel incredibly lucky and honoured that you chose me.”  
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips.  
“I love you Petyr.”  
He cursed himself for his weakness and sighed deeply as the words finally escaped him – the words that he had sworn to himself for so many years that he would never utter again.  
“And I love you. You will never know how much.”  
Her voice was small and trembling in return.  
“You’ve never actually said it to me before. Do you really mean it?”  
“I would never say that to you if I didn’t mean it.”  
She leant in to kiss him warmly and gently on the lips, hugging him close.

After some time Petyr noticed Sansa's eyes travel down her body to stop at her thighs. Following the line of her gaze he spotted a smear of blood.   
“Would you like to clean up, dear.”  
“Yes, I’d love a shower.”  
“Go ahead.”  
She lifted herself out of the bed and moved towards the bathroom. When she was halfway there she turned to face him and planted her hands on her hips.  
“Why are you still there? Aren’t you coming?”  
Petyr did not have to be asked twice and reached for her hand as she extended it towards him.

She turned on the tap, waiting for the pelting stream of water to heat up before pulling Petyr in behind her. Standing behind her, relishing the steaming hot drops belting down on his body he coiled his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, his member nestling between the twin globes of her bottom. Sansa squeaked in surprise and then moaned at the intimacy of the contact. He was not yet hard; not being as young as he used to be, he required a bit more time to recover, a fact that he cursed to the high heavens now as he held her tight and rubbed himself against her. He reached for a container of body wash sitting on a rung of the shower caddy and poured some into his hands. With his palms he massaged slickly over Sansa’s breasts, then played with her nipples flicking and teasing at them, nibbling at the skin of her neck at the same time. Leaving one hand on her nipple he moved the other ever downwards over her belly until he swept the beginning of her thatch of hair, her breathing becoming more rapid. He reached further down, gently moving her legs apart and slicking across the skin of the inner thigh near her thatch of hair.  
She whined. “Oh God. Not again. How many times can this happen?”  
She groaned as her pleasure started to build.  
“That’s the beautiful part about being a woman and something that is the envy of all men,” he whispered hotly right next to her ear before trailing his tongue down to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

She reached out her hand to brace herself against the tiled wall of the shower stall as her legs began to weaken. Petyr moved his fingers upwards and stroked her folds softly until he could feel her juices beginning to flow. He moved to her clit and circled it firmly with his forefinger while carefully positioning himself to push his now hardening length along her warm wetness being careful not to penetrate her. He rocked back and forth increasing the speed and the friction and pressing more firmly against her clit. She started to whimper as the tension slowly built within her until finally she cried out his name. He held her up as her legs gave way, her body trembling, her nails digging into his thighs. He spun her around and crushed her to him, grabbing at her bottom and holding her close. The pressure of his member bruising into the softness of her belly, the feel of her hard nipples against his chest, the yielding flesh of her bottom in his hands was enough for him to find his release, groaning loudly, his seed spilling between them, washed away by the hot water. 

Overcome by exhaustion they lowered to the floor. Sansa straddled him with her thighs and drew him into a deep passionate kiss as they held each other close, revelling in their shared bliss. After a moment she pulled away from him to stare deeply into his eyes.  
“You didn’t take me again.”  
“I didn’t want to hurt you further. It will still be a bit painful for you. There are many ways to find pleasure Sansa.”  
“I want the chance to find all of them with you,” she said shyly, a small smile on her face.  
He sighed and pushed a wet strand of hair from her face.  
“Beautiful girl.”  
“Woman,” she corrected, her eyes shining.  
“Woman,” he agreed as he squeezed her hand.  
After some time they hauled themselves tiredly from the floor of the shower, turned off the water and towelled each other dry.  
“Are you hungry?”  
“Getting there. But I feel cold.” Sansa shivered.  
“Come to bed. I’ll warm you up.”  
Sansa stared at him wide-eyed. Realising her misinterpretation he laughed.  
“Not like that. I’m not as young as I used to be my dear. I don’t think it would be possible even if that was my intention.”

He smirked as he ran his eyes over her naked form. Despite their recent intimacies Sansa blushed hotly under his scrutiny.  
“You look stunning my dear. Like a woman who has been completely and comprehensively fucked.”  
“Petyr!” she cried as she slapped playfully at his arm. “You’re terrible.”  
She laughed despite her indignation at his profanity and her acute embarrassment.  
“If you don’t believe me then look for yourself.”  
He spun her around to face the bathroom mirror wrapping his arms around her waist. She quickly surveyed her reflection, noting the dewiness of her complexion, the slight flush at her cheeks and her chest, the shine and sparkle of her eyes. She quickly lowered her gaze as her self-deprecating nature took hold.  
“I don’t think you know how exquisite you are. I die for these blushes of yours. I know you have absolutely no idea of your effect on men. But that is actually one of the things I love best about you.”  
“You’re embarrassing me Petyr. Besides I would rather look at you.”  
“Then come here woman. Drink your fill.”  
Petyr settled on his side in the bed and pulled her in to face him, covering them both with the feather doona. Stroking her face gently he stared deep into her eyes for some moments. Sansa pushed her fingers through his hair gently scratching his scalp, smiled and rolled over grabbing one of his hands and placing it against her breasts. He hugged her to him, snuggling against her back and throwing one leg over her to bring her closer. Sighing contentedly she relished the comfort of his strong arms around her, the scent of his skin and his warm breath at the nape of her neck as they cocooned her and drew her down into a deep restful sleep.

**************

Sansa stirred from her nap but the bed felt empty and cold and she gradually registered that Petyr was no longer there. She scrambled out of bed, changed into her clothes and brushed her hair before padding down the stairs in search of him. As she passed his study she noted that the door was closed but that she could hear the sound of Petyr’s voice muffled through it. She could not make out what he was saying but the tone sounded harsh and angry.

Oh my God. Is he ringing Lysa? I told him not to ring her until Monday.

She thought that after their lovemaking he had perhaps felt compelled to resolve the issue once and for all. Knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop but being unable to conquer her curiosity, she pressed her ear to the door.

“Now you listen to me Royce. I don’t pay you to do a half-arsed job. When I tell you I want to know where that little son of a bitch is, I expect results.”

She started in alarm. 

Oh no. It’s not Aunt Lysa. He’s talking to someone about Joffrey.

“Yes. You already told me that. But that’s not good enough. I want to know exactly what flight he boarded.”

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. 

Good he’s gone. Petyr kept his word and didn’t hurt him. I wonder how he got him to leave.

“I don’t care. I’m sure you have contacts that can get hold of the passenger manifests….. Yes I know you do good work but that is irrelevant right now ….. Yes, you did, and I am grateful for that. You did a good job with the Bartell girl although what happened to her was unfortunate. As I recall you also get handsomely paid for doing your job. If I pay good money then I expect results. Make sure you get that information to me. I don’t want any more excuses and no more fuck ups.”

Sansa stepped back from the door, her eyes wide with fear and incredulity.

Bartell girl? Kathyrn Bartell? You were involved somehow and you know something. What happened to her? What did Joffrey do and what did you do?

Panicked, she bolted for the stairs and ran up to the ensuite, shutting the door behind her. Her legs weak and trembling, she lowered herself to sit on the rim of the bathtub.

Sweet Jesus. He knew a lot more than he made out but he didn’t tell me. Something bad happened to her. He was involved in this and he must know where Kathryn Bartell is. He must do. Why would he not tell me?

She did not know what to make of it but one thing that she did know was that he had deceived her and placed her in unnecessary danger. She had thought that he loved her but how could he love her and risk her safety in that way. It didn’t make any sense. 

Has he been playing me all this time? Why? Why would he do that to me?

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she recalled the sweet warmth of his embrace, the feel of him inside her, his eyes, his voice, his smile. But none of it had been real. 

What a fool I’ve been. He never loved me. It’s just another one of his lies. He wanted me in his bed. That’s all it’s ever been. He took advantage of me at my lowest point. I’ve let him take from me the one thing that I can never get back. And for what? Some silly schoolgirl dream. He was your real life knight in shining armour, a bad boy turned good. Idiot. Idiot. He warned you what he was but you didn’t listen.

She wiped at her tears angrily. 

Control yourself. Don’t cry over him anymore. Don’t let him take anything else from you. 

She would not let him become aware of her knowledge of his deceit for she now understood how truly dangerous he was. She needed to get him away from her as quickly as she could without the possibility of being drawn in again by the siren call of his sweet words and warm caresses. She would encourage him to marry Aunt Lysa – perhaps in time they could make it work, she would tell him. She would convince Petyr that he had been right all along. A relationship between them would be too complicated, too fraught with danger and was not what she really wanted; they needed to take what they could from their time together and move on with their separate lives. She took some time to compose herself, took a deep breath and hauled herself to her feet, ready to face the man who had betrayed her.


	14. A Tangled Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Petyr POV

Petyr slammed his cell phone down on the desk in frustration. Damn the man. The one time he needed to be absolutely certain that the loose ends had been tied up and the amateurish prick dropped the ball. Royce had trailed Joffrey and Robert to the airport carpark but had lost sight of them inside the terminal. Robert had returned to his car without Joffrey but where the boy had flown, was anybody’s guess. 

He never should have acceded to Sansa’s wish and should have finished Joffrey on the spot when he had the chance instead of letting him fly the coop. Yet another gross miscalculation. Was he losing his touch? Before Royce’s royal cock up Petyr had intended to establish surveillance on Joffrey to ensure that he did not return and that there was no repetition of his atrocities. Despite Sansa’s wishes if he as much as looked at another girl or thought about returning to King’s Landing, Petyr would end him immediately. No questions asked. It would be made to look like an accident or a suicide and Sansa would be none the wiser. Now he would have to trust in Royce to do what he should have done in the first place. His damn job. Now the man would have to grease some palms, pull some strings with airline personnel and find out where the hell Joffrey went. Unnecessary risk and complication that could so easily have been avoided.  
Fuck!

Sighing he moved to the door and opened it, spying Sansa as she sauntered down the stairs. She looked tired, her eyes reddened. 

She’s been crying. Maybe it’s all been a bit much for her.

He moved towards her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her lips but he noticed that she was tense and that she did not return the kiss.  
“What’s wrong Sansa? Is everything alright. Are you feeling okay?”  
“I’m fine Petyr. But I need to talk to you.”  
The words as they left her mouth were cold and clipped. He slipped his arm around her waist and walked her into the lounge room, noting how stiffly her body moved as he did so. Settling down on the divan, Sansa turned to face him, her expression unreadable.  
“What do you want to talk to me about?” he asked with a growing sense of trepidation.

“Petyr. I’m sorry but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”  
His stomach lurched as he stared at her, searching her face for some, any explanation for this sudden about-turn in her sentiments.  
“Why? What do you mean? I thought –”  
“We shouldn’t have slept together. It was wrong.”  
“Wrong? But I’ve just told you I love you and you said you loved me. I never would have touched you if I didn’t think you wanted it as much as I did.”  
“I know that. It’s my fault Petyr. You made me feel all these things – you touched me like no one else has; you spoke to me like an equal; you made me feel special.”

She’s making me sound like some disgusting manipulative paedophile.

He grabbed her by the arms and stared deep into her eyes.  
“You are special to me. What? Do you think I’m grooming you? Is that it?”  
“No, that’s not what I think at all. I know you’re not like that. Like I said, it was my fault. I got confused. You were my first Petyr, and with everything that happened with Joffrey I…. it overwhelmed me. I didn’t know what I was feeling.”  
He touched his hand to her face. “So when you said you loved me, it wasn’t true?”  
He thought he detected a softening in her gaze but it was fleeting. A hard edge returned to her eyes.  
“I thought it was true at the time. I was missing my father, hating school; I was lonely and you were there and kind to me. You helped me when I needed you most. I did think I loved you. I do love you but not like that. I’m sorry, Petyr. I’m so confused. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  
“Please Sansa,” he said as he encircled her waist with his arms. “When we made love, I know you felt the same as I did. You’re scared. And that’s natural. And we have Lysa to contend with which doesn’t make it any easier. But we can make it work. We’ll slow down. Whatever you want. Please trust me that I will make all of this work, somehow. I’ll find a way.”  
He prayed he was getting through to her on some level, but he noted that she never relaxed into his embrace, her body remaining tense.

She squirmed herself free from his arms and sat back to regard him.  
“And what about Aunt Lysa? She is an innocent victim in all of this. She didn’t deserve what we did to her. You should go to her, be with her. She loves you Petyr. In time you could learn to love her and you could both be happy.”  
“I will never love that woman, never,” he snapped bitterly.  
“Then don’t marry her then but beg her forgiveness anyway. Make it right and move on with your life. Find someone else to make you happy.”  
“I don’t want anyone else.”  
“Even if being together is what I wanted, we can’t. Like you’ve said before it’s too dangerous and too many people would get hurt.”  
She hesitated slightly before continuing, her tone now harsh and cold.  
“Besides, I want to have fun like anyone else my age. I want to be able to go to parties, the movies, walks in the park, swim at the beach, go dancing with my boyfriend without hiding out and having to sneak around. I don’t want to be judged. I want to be able to look my family and friends in the eye. I don’t want this…. This is a ….mess.”  
“It doesn’t have to be that way. When you turn 18 then –”  
“You will be what, 42, 43? When I am 30 you will be in your mid 50’s. You’re a numbers man. How does this add up to you?”

Petyr stared at her for a long moment before replying. He felt every single one of her words stab at his chest like a dagger because each and every word was completely true.  
“This is how you really feel?”  
“Yes. And this is how it has to be.”  
He thought he heard her exhale with a tremor but she appeared resolute. There was no point in pushing it any further.

I’ve lost her. I always knew this would happen eventually but like this? I’m kidding myself. I never had her to begin with. Just like Cat.

He sighed and ran his hand roughly through his hair.  
“Alright. I can see your mind is made up. What happens now?” he asked roughly.  
“Talk to Aunt Lysa on Monday. Come to the house in the evening as you are meant to for appearances sake. But that will be the last time. Just tell my Mom your responsibilities have increased at work, anything, but just make sure she buys it. And then we go our separate ways.”  
“You said that like it’s so easy. I’m not sure I can just walk away.”  
“It’s easy because it’s what has to happen.”  
“Do you want me to call Margaery then and get her to pick you up earlier?”  
“No. She’ll start to ask questions. I don’t think I can handle that right now. I’ll still stay here but is there somewhere else I can sleep?”  
“No. You stay in the main bedroom. I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and appeared to relent slightly. She regarded him sadly and touched his hand.  
“I still want to spend our last time together as friends.”  
Friends, he thought bitterly.  
“Come on I’ll make you some dinner and we’ll put on some music and we’ll talk, or if you don’t want to talk then we don’t have to,” she urged.  
She lifted her hand from his and hesitated before reaching over to stroke his face lightly with her fingers.  
“You know that I will always be deeply grateful to you for everything you’ve done for me. And I will never forget the time we spent together.”  
He could not find any words, he did not trust himself to speak, so he leant in and kissed her softly one last time. He had fully expected her to pull away immediately but she returned his kiss for a moment then broke it with a half-sob. She whirled from the divan.  
“I’ll be back down in a minute. I just need to use the bathroom,” she stammered as she strode quickly away from him, heading out to the staircase.


	15. A Gift

Sansa, ran up the stairs to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her, leant against it and slid slowly to the floor as her body was wracked by a convulsive wave of sobs. As she thought about the sadness in his eyes and the apparent sincerity of his words, she had almost believed that he loved her. If it was true then what she had said to him had been unbelievably cruel. She had not planned to say some of the things she had said and it hurt her to say them. But she had needed him to be completely convinced of the change in her affections. She could not afford to allow him to weaken her and bend her to his will again, no matter how benevolent he appeared on the surface for his deceits were masterful - that much was clear. 

The fact remained that if he truly loved her, he would have trusted her, told her what he knew about Kathryn Bartell and his involvement in her disappearance and he would have kept her from harm. No, he didn’t love her; he had wanted her in his bed and he had taken advantage of her weakness; she had allowed herself to be swayed by his charm and his touch and his pretty words but that could never happen again. 

After some time, she managed to compose herself, and rising on shaking legs, she threw some cold water in her face and dried off with a towel. She regarded herself in the mirror and she was struck by how tired, drawn and forlorn she looked.

I don’t know how I’m going to get over this. But I have to be strong now. After Monday I won’t have to see him again.

She sighed and almost teared up again at the thought but she shook her head and breathed deeply. Walking through the bedroom, down the staircase and towards the kitchen she spied Petyr at the kitchen bench, organising all of the ingredients that he had bought for dinner. He looked up at her, the sadness still etched into his face; he looked boyish and lost. It was perhaps the first time other than in the throes of their passion that she had seen such naked emotion in his eyes. She fought a very strong impulse to run to him and crush her body to his, kiss his face all over, run her hands through his hair. Instead she walked over to the bench and started to sort through the groceries without speaking or looking at him directly.

“Can I help you,” he asked after a while.  
“No thanks, I’ve got it. I could murder a glass of wine though.”  
“Say no more. I could do with a drink myself.”  
Her eyes snapped to his but he wore his trademark smirk, so she relaxed gifting him a small smile in return.  
He reached for a bottle of wine that he had purchased along with the other groceries.  
“It’s a Negroamaro from Apulia in Southern Italy. I have extensive knowledge of wines and I know that it pairs well with aubergine,” stated Petyr with an air of smug authority.  
“Is that so? I thought you said you didn’t know everything?”  
“Okay, caught out,” he chuckled. “I called my sommelier at the restaurant and he helped me out.”  
“You’re such a liar,” she replied, instantly clamming up as she realised that she had inadvertently given voice to her true thoughts of him. 

Petyr did not seem to notice her discomfiture and simply poured her a glass and handed it to her. It was an overly generous pour.  
“That’s a rather big serve there Mister. Are you trying to get me drunk?” she japed.  
“No,” he said defensively. “Would it matter if I did?” he snapped with some bitterness.  
He paused and then sighed deeply.  
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Do you want a smaller serve? I’ll take that one.”  
She took pity on him and grabbed at his hand, holding it tightly. He stiffened under her grasp.  
“No, it’s okay. Petyr….look, let’s not tip-toe around each other. I don’t want this to be all sad and awkward. Let’s just try and enjoy what little time we have left.”  
He exhaled loudly. “You’re right. You’re always right. How do you do that?”  
“Just one of my many well-hidden talents,” she smiled wryly.

Later they sat in a large leather couch in the lounge room, savouring their food and wine and listening to a string quartet by Shostakovich. She had further perused Petyr’s music collection and was impressed and intrigued by its eclecticism. Opera, 80s New Romantic, Hip Hop, Blues, Jazz, R&B, Classical, Punk, Progressive Metal, Emo, Trance; they all sat happily side by side.  
“I don’t have a preference for any particular style of music. If I hear it and I like it then I like it, no matter what genre it belongs to,” he explained.  
“Same. But I notice there’s no Country music in your collection?”  
“I’m afraid to say that is the exception to the rule. I could never quite develop a taste for it. I’ve tried but it’s not my cup of tea,” explained Petyr.  
“What about Western?”  
“What? Oh – “  
“We’ve got both kinds,” they drawled in unison, “Country and Western.”  
They stared at each other and exploded into helpless peals of laughter. Sansa realised that the wine was starting to affect her and assumed it was much the same for him. They had just opened a second bottle, the remainder of which sat on the coffee table in front of them.  
“This is what I’m going to miss, Sansa. This easiness between us. Like we’ve known each other for years. That’s a rare thing.”  
“Things haven’t always been easy between us Petyr,” she reminded him. He didn’t respond.

“Sansa, I have a gift for you. I arranged it a few days ago but I was keeping it for your 18th Birthday; I don’t suppose I’ll get to see you so I’d like to give it to you now.”  
He withdrew a small jewellery box from the back pocket of his jeans.  
“Petyr, you shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t necessary.”  
“I still want you to have it. It would make me happy to think of you looking at it and maybe retaining some fond memories of this foolish old man and thinking about him kindly from time to time.”  
“I don’t need a gift from you to do that. And you’re not old or foolish for that matter.”  
“Go on. Open it,” he prompted.  
She flipped the hinged lid of the box. Inside lay a silver chain and on the chain dangled a beautifully intricate white gold pendant in the shape of a bird perched on the branch of a tree, its eye a scintillating diamond. She recognised the design from the business card he had given her at their first meeting.

“I had it commissioned for you. It’s based on my personal emblem.”  
“Oh Petyr,” she gasped, touched by his thoughtfulness and the extravagance of the gift.  
“It’s beautiful. What sort of bird is it?”  
“A mockingbird.”  
“I love it.”  
“It would make me very happy if you wore it.”  
She beamed at him. “Of course I’ll wear it. Can you help me?”  
He took the chain from the box, and gathering her long tresses in his other hand, draped them over one shoulder, baring the nape of her neck. He fumbled with the clasp, accidentally brushing the delicate skin there as he did so, his hot breath wisping over her. She stiffened slightly at the contact.

She did not turn to face him. The tumult of her emotions, exacerbated by the wine, and his touch finally took their toll and she could no longer keep up the pretence. She buried her face in her hands and started to weep.  
“Sansa, what is it? No, don’t cry.”  
“Why?”  
“Why what Sansa?”  
“Why did you have to do it? Why did you hurt me like that? You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she sobbed.  
“What are you talking about?” he asked sounding completely perplexed.  
She suddenly stood and stared down at him, her body trembling.  
“I know Petyr, alright? I know. I overheard you on the phone to your man. About Joffrey.  
“Oh God,” Petyr groaned, the colour draining from his face.  
“Kathryn Bartell. He was hurting her. You knew about it but you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me, Petyr? Why did you let me go off with him knowing he was hurting her? I told you I thought it was just gossip. But you knew it wasn’t and you kept it from me. He could have raped me,” she cried.

Petyr shot to his feet and grabbed her arms.  
“Sansa. You have to listen to me now.”  
“Why? Why should I listen to you ever again? You lied to me. You put me in danger. That’s not something you do to someone you love. You don’t love me Petyr or you could never have put me in that position. All you wanted was to have sex with me, that’s all.”  
“You couldn’t be more wrong. You don’t know the full story.”  
“What full story? You knew that Joffrey was abusing a young girl and you did nothing to stop it. And then you don’t bother to tell me? That’s the only part of the story that matters to me.”  
“Alright. You want the truth? The whole truth? Joffrey didn’t just assault Kathryn Bartell, Sansa. He murdered her,” he yelled.

Sansa stared at him in wide-eyed horror.  
“What?” she murmured in a small trembling voice.  
“He strangled her to death after he beat her.”  
Sansa crumpled to the floor in shock, her face as white as a sheet.  
“Oh my God. How do you know this Petyr?” she croaked.  
“I had been running surveillance on the Baratheon’s for reasons related to business. The girl came to my attention. It became apparent that things were not right with her but Joffrey was very careful. He always ensured he conducted his sessions with her in private where my investigator couldn’t observe and he was careful to never touch her face. There was no solid evidence.”  
“The man you were on the phone to? Royce? He’s your investigator?”  
“That’s right; he’s the head of the team. He noticed that she seemed depressed and was always completely covered in clothing. We held grave concerns for her but there was no proof. I wanted to do something to help her get away from him but I underestimated the depth of Joffrey’s depravity. One night he went too far and he killed her. You don’t know how much I hated myself for not taking action before it was too late. He and Robert were careless and Royce was there when they attempted to move the body. I have photos in my possession.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police with those photos, Petyr? Why did you let this maniac roam free? You must have known there was a chance that he would try this again on some other poor girl. And that poor girl just happened to be me,” she cried.  
He hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side.  
“Answer me Petyr.”  
“She was already dead. Nothing I could do would bring her back. Joffrey disappeared over the school vacation. I thought his father had sent him away. When he returned to school, I thought long and hard about turning him in, but he kept to himself and seemed -”  
She stared at him in horror as the truth dawned on her.  
“That’s not how it was. It was because it was not expedient for you to do so. I see now. You were keeping that evidence so that you could use it at a time of your choosing, at a time that would enhance your schemes in some way. And you still are. That’s it isn’t it? Oh Christ, what sort of monster are you?”

“You’re right, I am a monster,” he replied. “I never said I was a good man. I have never pretended to be and I told you what I was when we first met. But I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that. I used the photos to convince Robert to send Joffrey away, so he would never hurt you again.”  
“And that exonerates you in some way? And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” she yelled. “You should have sent the evidence to the police; and you should have told me Petyr. You should have trusted me. You don’t trust me enough to tell the truth.”  
“How could I tell you this? The Baratheon’s are dangerous. I couldn’t risk it. You had already agreed to go out with the boy so I was worried about what would happen if I told you and you tried to back out. You’re an open book Sansa. You can’t lie to save your life.”  
“I think I have proven today that is not true.”  
He ignored her comment and continued.  
“With Kathryn the relationship started off normally by all accounts but Joffrey became more and more aggressive over time. I thought that with everything that happened the last time he lost control, he would be more careful with you and you would see that he was not for you before anything bad happened. I resolved that I would release the photos to the police anonymously if I got wind of anything changing but he made his move so quickly. His behaviour is obviously escalating. If I had known I would have strangled him with my bare hands before I let him touch you.”

She stared at him, tears streaming down her face.  
“You hurt me Petyr. What you did hurt me more than what Joffrey did to me. Do you know that?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling.  
He looked away and she noticed that he was blinking furiously. He moved from the couch to kneel down in front of her, his eyes glistening.  
“Hearing you say that I hurt you more than Joffrey kills me. But it is nothing more or less than I deserve. I blame myself for what happened to Kathryn Bartell. I hate myself for what happened to you. Please tell me that you will forgive me. I don’t expect you to speak to me again after this. I know that’s too much to ask. But I do love you. No matter what you do to me or what you say, that will never change. If you ever need anything from me you will have it. I swear it. Wherever you find yourself in the world I will be there to keep you from harm, if you will let me.”

Although she still harboured grave misgivings, so overcome was she by the depth and strength of emotion from this usually controlled man and the inconceivable idea of losing him that she flung her arms around him and cradled her face against his chest, sobbing. He embraced her tightly whispering her name in her ear.  
“I forgive you Petyr,” she mumbled through her tears. “I never meant what I said about not loving you. And about our ages. Numbers, ages, they mean nothing to me. I’m sorry I said it. I still love you.”

He grabbed her face with this hands and brought her lips to his in a deep and passionate kiss, his hands running frantically up and down her body. She lay back on the floor pulling him on top of her, never breaking the kiss. Such was the extremity of their passion that they both moaned with the intensity of the sudden contact of their bodies. Petyr’s mouth travelled hungrily over her chin, and down to the base of her throat as Sansa arched her back pressing her breasts into his chest. Petyr responded by moving his hips, rubbing his already hard cock against her mound. Sansa whimpered and stroked her fingers through the greying hair at his temples.  
Petyr stopped to rip Sansa’s top and jumper over her head, peeled off her jeans and panties and tore off his own clothes impatiently before laying himself down over her again with a long low moan. He resumed his kisses and licks at her throat and moved down to a breast, licking over the nipple and catching it delicately between his teeth. Sansa groaned and instinctively parted her legs, allowing Petyr to rub himself directly against her entrance. He moved on to his knees and parted her thighs further, his hand massaging ever upwards until he swiped his fingers along her folds. She was already wet, a sweet insistent fluttering centred in her core. He rubbed along and inside her folds as she whimpered his name. He found her nub and slicked around it firmly and quickly with his forefinger. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he continued to rub her in circular motions, his other hand grasping his member and placing it right at her entrance.  
Petyr did not hesitate. Where their first coupling had been solicitous and gentle this was fierce and animalistic. He plunged into her with some force, eliciting a loud cry from Sansa. She was still sore from their previous encounter but like the last time, the pain was gradually subsumed by intense waves of pleasure from the friction of his thrusts. He grunted as he pushed into her deep and fast. Sansa felt the tension steadily growing until finally she went over the edge, crashing around him, the walls of her sex pulsing. He thrust himself in a few more times and attempted to withdraw but Sansa held him close as she panted in her ecstasy.  
“Please stay.”  
His whole body tensed, his back arched and he moaned loud and long before spilling his seed inside her. She felt the warm wet surge within her and hugged him tight. 

He stayed inside her for a long time, not wanting to lose this most intimate of contacts. When he pulled out of her, she stared at him and gave him a small smile.  
He reached over to stroke her hair, his face wracked with concern.  
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to be so rough. God, I wanted you so much but I should have stopped to use a condom.”  
Sansa brushed lightly against Petyr’s bottom lip with her fingers.  
“I wanted you too. It only hurt a bit at first. I’ve been on the pill for a while now to manage difficult periods so don’t worry about me getting pregnant. I wanted you to stay inside me. I wanted to feel you. It was wonderful,” she sighed.  
“For me too. You’re amazing. So beautiful.”  
He rolled towards her and hugged her close, pressing his lips to hers.

After some time, they used the downstairs guest bathroom to clean up and re-dress and then settled down together on the divan in the lounge. She curled into him and closed her eyes, savouring his warmth and scent as her fingers tickled his chest through his t-shirt. Petyr fiddled idly with a lock of her hair.  
“What are we going to do now Petyr?”  
“I need to try and convince Lysa it would be in her best interests to let me go.”  
“So we can be together?”  
“Yes. But we have to maintain appearances. At least until you turn 18.”  
“At least it’s not too far away.”  
“It still won’t be easy but then the best things in life are not so easy to come by.”  
Sansa straightened moving away from Petyr slightly; she turned to face him, her expression serious.  
“I want so much to be with you but if we’re going to do this you have to promise me something,” she said earnestly.  
“Anything.”  
“You have to swear that you will never lie to me again and that you will trust me enough to tell me the truth. Always. I want to be your equal but for that to happen there needs to be trust between us. If I can’t trust you and you can’t trust me, then there is no us.”  
He kissed her lightly.  
“You have my word.”

She sneaked her hand under the hem of his t-shirt and rubbed her hand across the muscles of his chest. Her fingers found his scar and caressed it gently. He seemed to tense but then relaxed with a sigh.  
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this, Petyr,” she said. “How did it happen?”  
Petyr’s body stiffened and he hesitated before replying.  
“Car accident. Years ago. I was only in my early twenties when it happened.”  
His words were almost robotic in intonation.  
“It must have been close to being a fatal wound,” she prompted.  
“It was. It nearly destroyed me in more ways than one.”  
His voice sounded strained and distant and it was clear that he wished to avoid the subject. She searched his eyes. They were calm but something lurked in the depths. She wanted to know more but she could sense his disquiet and didn’t want to push him further. She stroked her fingers through his hair.  
“I’m sorry Petyr. I shouldn’t have asked. It must bring back a lot of bad memories.”  
He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers but made no further comment.


	16. A Sweet Sorrow

Sansa woke the next morning to find herself in bed snuggled against Petyr, his face just inches from hers. They had spent some hours on the divan talking about their favourite music, their favourite films, places they wanted to travel to, things they wanted to do – anything and everything – until fatigue had finally overcome them and they had stumbled into bed together. She did not know about him but she had been asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She yawned contentedly and stretched her limbs with feline litheness, stirring him from his sleep. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.  
“Good morning.”  
“Hey, sleepy head,” she replied.  
He glanced at his clock radio. “Hell! It’s 10 already.”  
“Well we did make ourselves kinda busy yesterday so it’s no wonder we slept in.”  
He chuckled and drew her closer for a kiss.

“We have to get up dear. Margaery will be here before we know it.”  
“I don’t want to go,” she pouted.  
“I don’t want you to go either but there is no choice. We’ll see each other tomorrow. I have a front door key for you. Can you come up with a cover story for your mother and be here tomorrow evening around 6pm? If I’m not here just let yourself in. We will have a lot to talk about and I’d rather that we were undisturbed.”  
“I’ll tell her you’re busy at work and Margaery needs help with an English assignment. That should do the job.”  
“You’re getting good at this.”   
She sighed deeply, hauling herself from the bed.  
“I’d rather not add lying to my skill set if it’s all the same to you.”  
Petyr looked at her strangely before she turned from him and walked to the ensuite.

As she dressed, Sansa inspected her bruises. It was a bit too warm for the turtleneck jumper so she wore the v neck from the previous day. Most of the bruises had faded somewhat but the marks around her neck were still discernible so she covered herself with one of the light silk scarves Margaery had left for her.   
“That looks nice but now I can’t get to your neck,” Petyr smirked as he came up behind her grabbing her by the waist and nibbling at her earlobe.  
“Mmmm,” she purred. “If you keep doing that Margaery might get an eyeful of something she hadn’t been expecting.”  
“Is that supposed to make me stop? I rather like the idea of an audience; perhaps a bit of audience participation also,” he jested.  
“Petyr!” she turned to face him and slapped him on the arm.  
He caught her up in his arms and kissed her, grinning against her lips.  
“You really have to stop now,” she giggled as she broke the kiss.  
“As you wish, my Lady,” he said as he deposited her on the floor and bent at the waist in a mock bow.

The hours until Margaery’s appearance flew by with astonishing speed. Sansa became increasingly despondent at the thought of leaving Petyr’s side and the very real possibility that Lysa would seek to tear them apart permanently. She had every confidence in his persuasive abilities as she had seen them in action for herself often enough. But she also knew that her Aunt could be less than tractable, indeed extraordinarily stubborn at the best of times. At the worst of times, she could only wonder at what the woman was capable of. Petyr had tried to distract her but was himself becoming increasingly pensive as the reality of their imminent separation hit home.

Finally, later that afternoon as they cuddled up on the divan watching “Taxi Driver”, one of Petyr’s favourite films, the doorbell rang. Petyr took Sansa’s hand and squeezed it before stepping towards the door. When it opened Margaery stood there, her lips trembling, her eyes filled with tears,  
“Sansa?” she cried.  
“Oh Margaery”, Sansa sobbed as she ran to her friend embracing her.   
The two girls clung to each other weeping for some time before Petyr made his presence felt. He moved towards them and placed a hand on the shoulder of each, patting them gently.  
“Ladies. Ladies. Take pity on a poor old man. One woman crying in my house I can handle, but two?”  
“Sorry Mr Baelish,” Margaery sniffled. “I’m just so glad to see you Sansa. Are you alright? I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”  
Sansa, wiped at her face with her sleeve.   
“Don’t say that Margaery. Joffrey did this. You have nothing to be sorry for.”  
Petyr took Margaery by the hand.   
“You helped Sansa in her hour of need. I can never re-pay you for what you did for her, for us. You must also thank your Grandmother. Tell her I owe her one. She’ll be quite pleased about that, I can assure you.”   
He raised the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it chivalrously. Margaery smiled and blushed slightly at the contact.  
“That’s much better. You have a beautiful smile Margaery. Hopefully you will see fit to bestow it upon me more often in future.”  
Margaery looked down at her feet demurely, clearly enjoying Petyr’s attentions. Sansa gave him a warning nudge with her elbow. Petyr winked in response and released Margaery’s hand.

Sansa moved away to pick up her belongings. She returned to face Petyr. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her voice trembled.  
“Thank you for everything Uncle Petyr. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”  
“You are welcome my dear. I am always here for you and your mother and sister too. You call me if you need anything.”  
Sansa could not restrain herself from setting down her bags and throwing her arms around Petyr, who stood awkwardly for a moment before encircling her gingerly in his arms. They embraced for some time before he disengaged himself from her, stared into her eyes and kissed her chastely on the forehead.   
As Sansa turned away from him and faced Margaery the older girl stared at her and then at Petyr with a quizzical expression. Sansa fought to keep her face from reflecting her heightened emotions while Petyr donned his well-practised mask of neutrality.  
“I will rely on you to keep an eye on my niece for me Margaery. I know a clever, sensitive girl like you is more than equal to the task,” he smirked at her.

 

“I’ll do my best, Mr Baelish,” she replied stiffly.  
Sansa sensed that there had been a shift in Margaery’s attitude towards him as she now appeared wary and unsusceptible to his charm. She was not sure if he had become aware of it too.  
“After what we have been through, I think you should call me Petyr.”  
“My Grandmother always taught me it is overly familiar to call your elders by their first name. I don’t know if that is a life-long habit that I can break.”  
The insinuation in her comment and the frosty tone with which it was delivered was not lost on Sansa who shot Petyr a quick worried glance. Apart from a very slight facial tick, Petyr’s expression remained carefully blank.  
“We’d better be going now Sansa. Your mother will be expecting you. Bye Mr Baelish.”  
“Goodbye Margaery. And thank you again. Take care, Sansa dear.”  
“Goodbye Uncle. Thank you,” she muttered as they strolled towards Margaery’s car. 

 

Sansa battled the urge to look back at him as they pulled out of the driveway but she knew in her heart that he would be standing there watching until well after the car finally disappeared from his view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Taxi Driver as the film our lovebirds were watching as it is a favourite of Aidan Gillen's


	17. Revelations

They both sat in silence for some time as they drove towards Sansa’s home, each lost to their own thoughts.  
“Sans, are you alright?”  
“I’m not going to lie Margaery. I’m scared. When I close my eyes sometimes I still see it as though I am reliving the whole thing over again.”  
“I’m really sorry it happened to you. Mr Baelish didn’t go into a lot of details. But he did tell us that Joffrey didn’t rape you,” she said softly.  
“No. He tried. But no, he didn’t. It was just like you said Margaery. It’s like someone flicked a switch and he just got so angry. He just kept hitting me and grabbing me. I’m covered in bruises. I hope my mother doesn’t spot them.”  
“That’s really awful. I know that you didn’t want to go to the authorities but he needs to be stopped. Have you thought more about it?”  
Sansa could only imagine what Margaery’s reaction would be if she were to find out about Kathryn Bartell’s murder at Joffrey’s hands and that Petyr had the evidence available to convict him.  
“Of course. I want him to be punished for what he’s done, believe me. But I know how the court system can be. I just can’t go through all that. Petyr – Uncle Petyr,” she quickly corrected, “said that he would make sure Joffrey doesn’t hurt me again. He’ll make it right.”

Margaery was silent for some moments before continuing.  
“Mr Baelish was very worried about you. He seems to care a lot about you, Sans.”  
“I know he does. He is very kind,” she mumbled.  
“Did he take you to the hospital to get checked out?”  
“No. He wanted me to go but I didn’t want any strangers touching me.”

All of a sudden Margaery flicked her indicator and steered the car to the side of the road. She killed the ignition and turned to regard her with a frown.  
“Why are we stopping?  
“Sans. You can tell me to mind my own business, but….did he touch you? Is there something going on? The way you looked at each other before, I don’t know, I just got a feeling.”  
“No. I – He -,” she stammered before she completely lost her composure and started to sob.  
“Oh God Sansa, I’m sorry come here.”  
She wrapped her arms around the younger girl pulling her close.  
“Shush. It’s alright. I know how confusing it must be. But that’s how these older men operate. They get you when you’re weak and vulnerable and when you have nowhere else to turn that’s when they make their move. He’s the adult. He is supposed to be there to protect you not take advantage of a bad situation. He needs to be reported Sans. What he has done is against the law and it’s frankly completely disgusting,” she spat.  
“No, please Margaery it’s not like that,” she sobbed. “I love Petyr. I love him so much and he loves me,” she cried.

Margaery pulled away from her to gaze intently at her, her tone soft and gentle.  
“Sansa. Look at me. In situations like this it’s easy to be confused and misled. You’re grateful to him, he’s paying you all this attention, and he’s a very attractive, charming man. I can see how -”  
“No. You don’t understand. I was drawn to him from the first time I met him. And when we were together, it was so easy between us. We talked to each other for hours. I threw myself at him so many times but he always pushed me away.”  
“How noble of him,” she sneered cynically.  
“I wanted him so much but he lied to me and told me he didn’t want me in that way, that he was like an uncle to me and that’s all. But I kept pushing him and pushing him and finally he admitted to me that he loved me. He was trying to protect me, Margaery. That’s all he has ever tried to do. I was the one who instigated it. And when we finally –”  
“Sansa! You didn’t? You didn’t……sleep with him did you?”  
Sansa did not speak but nodded her head as fresh tears streamed down her face.  
“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. Were you a virgin before the two of you had sex?”  
“Yes,” she replied through her tears.  
“Oh my God. That fucking bastard,” she hissed.

“Please Margaery don’t say that about him. If you knew him like I know him you would think he was wonderful. He is kind, funny, smart, sensitive. He would do anything for me. When we did it the first time –“  
“The first time!? There was more than one time!?” she squeaked.  
“When we did it the first time,” Sansa continued, “he was so gentle, so lovely. He gave me so many opportunities to back out but I wanted him, needed him to touch me, to be with me. I’ve never felt the way he makes me feel. He didn’t think about himself first and what he wanted. Everything he did he did for me. He would literally kill for me.”

Margaery stared sadly at Sansa and sighed deeply.  
“Oh Sansa. If he cared about you at all he wouldn’t mess your life up like this. Where do you think this ‘relationship’ is going to go? If it gets out how do you think things will go for you at school? And it’ll be all over the media because of his public profile. When I was teasing you about older men the other day it was just a joke. I wasn’t being serious. But this - this is deadly serious. What he’s done is a criminal offence. If your mother finds out, she’ll report him for sure. It’s statutory rape and because he’s so much older than you he would get sent down for a very long time.”  
“But he didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t rape me. I wanted it to happen. I am the one who made it happen.”  
“Not in the eyes of the law, Sans. You can’t legally give consent if you are underage.”  
“I don’t care what happens to me but it would kill me if Petyr was punished because of me. Please promise me that you won’t say anything to anybody. Please don’t hurt him,” she pleaded.  
“Alright. Alright. I don’t like it but I can see how much you care about him. But if he hurts you I won’t hesitate to report him, Sans. I’m sorry but the gloves will be off.”  
“He won’t.”  
“But if he does, I’ll be here for you, count on it.”  
“Thanks Margaery,” she sniffled.

“So what happens now?”  
“He has to talk to my Aunt Lysa, call off the wedding. He doesn’t love her; he never did. It was more like a marriage of convenience on his part than anything else.”  
Margaery groaned.  
“Jesus wept, that’s right. This gets better and better. If she finds out all hell will break loose. You’re both going to have to be very careful.”  
Margaery glared at Sansa who could not meet the girl’s incredulous eyes.  
“Shit. No way. She knows already doesn’t she?”  
“Yes,” Sansa winced.  
“How the fuck did that happen? She didn’t see you in bed together, did she?”  
“No. She just kind of showed up out of the blue. We hadn’t even done it at that stage. She jumped to the wrong conclusion, well it turned out to be the right one in the end.”  
“This is very dangerous for both of you now, you do know that?”  
“Yes but I think Petyr might be able to turn it around. He is very resourceful and very persuasive.”  
“So I’ve noticed,” Margaery replied sarcastically.  
“Margaery.”  
“Sorry Sans. It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”  
Margaery fired up the engine again and they drove on in silence for a while until she spoke wistfully. 

“It’s a strange world. The way things turn out.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well a man falls in love with one woman, nearly marries the sister but ends up with her daughter instead.”  
“What are you talking about, Margaery? I don’t follow.”  
Margaery stared at Sansa, the colour draining from her face.  
“Oh…..nothing …… I – You don’t know do you?”  
“Know what. What are you on about?”  
“My grandmother told me that Mr Baelish was in love with your mother when they were younger. I assumed you already knew that.”

Sansa stared wide-eyed at Margaery feeling as though she had been physically struck.  
“That’s a lie,” she muttered. “You’re lying or your grandmother’s lying.”  
“Why would I lie, Sans? I wouldn’t do that to you. And my grandmother has no reason to lie and it’s not in her nature. She is a very forthright person, often to the detriment of her friendships.”  
“But, Petyr and my mother: they were like brother and sister,” she stammered.  
“Your mother thought so too, but he had other ideas. He chased after her for years – ever since they were young teens apparently. Being from a poorer family, he was stuck for a long time in dead end, low paying jobs. Your grandparents didn’t consider him to be a good enough prospect for their daughter. They arranged a match for her into a wealthy family, the Starks. Your mother was betrothed to Brandon Stark.”  
Sansa was already aware of her mother’s marriage to her father’s brother, Brandon. The marriage had been short-lived as he had died in an accident shortly after the wedding.

“Well, Mr Baelish was devastated and begged her not to marry Brandon and to marry him instead. She turned him down flat. He started to hit the bottle a bit after that. One night he saw them together at a local bar and being completely shitfaced and out of his mind he picked a fight with Brandon. Mr Baelish was yelling, carrying on and threatening to kill him if he didn’t leave your mother alone. They started to fight and it got really ugly. Brandon was furious and smashed a bottle slicing him with it. Apparently it was a very nasty wound that went right down his upper body.

Oh my God. The scar. This is all true.

“Brandon had the bottle at his neck and was about to finish him off but your mother pulled him off and talked some sense into him. Mr Baelish was in hospital for weeks but apparently your mother didn’t go to see him. They went their separate ways after that, your mother eventually married your father and life went on but obviously at some point they must have reunited and made amends.”  
“So where does Aunt Lysa fit in to all of this?” Sansa murmured.  
“I’m not exactly sure. She always had a thing for him but he wasn’t interested. Of course as you know she was married to John Arryn but he passed away some time ago. Sounds like she never forgot about Mr Baelish though. I think it’s a very sad story. Especially now that she’s about to lose him again.”

Margaery steered the car into the driveway of Sansa’s home.  
“Are you alright Sans? You’ve gone awfully quiet.”  
“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m just a little bit tired.”  
“That’s understandable. You’ve been through so much.”  
As they stepped out of the car, Margaery whispered urgently.  
Hey heads up. Your Mom’s coming.”  
Sansa took a deep breath and made her voice sound as light and airy as she could.  
“Hey Mom,” this is my friend, Margaery Tyrell.”  
“Hi Margaery, pleased to meet you.”  
“Hi Mrs Stark. It’s nice to meet you too.”  
“Did you girls have fun?”  
“Yeah it was great. Hey Mom. I hope it’s okay but Mr Baelish rang me and he can’t make it tomorrow night – something about work. He said he’d make it up on another night. Margaery is struggling with an English assignment. Would it be okay if I go over to hers and help her out?”  
Margaery stared at her in perplexity.  
“Sure honey. But just make sure you’re not too late back.  
Don’t worry Mom. I can’t see myself being at Petyr’s very long, she thought bitterly.  
Would you like to come in Margaery?”  
“I’d love to Mrs Stark but I have to get back. Thanks though. Maybe next time?”  
“Sure. You’re always welcome. Well, I’ll make my way inside now. It was nice to put face to name Margaery. Thanks for having Sansa over and say thank you to your Grandmother too. She seems like a nice lady.”  
“She’s the best, Mrs Stark. See you.”

Margaery waited for her to step inside the house and close the door before she rounded on Sansa.  
“What the hell? What was that about tomorrow night?”  
Sansa cringed. “Sorry about that. I have to go to Petyr’s and it was the only story I could come up with that might float.”  
Margaery sighed. “Okay. But I didn’t peg you as someone who lies so easily.  
Sansa sighed at the unwelcome home truth.  
“This is getting very real now. You be careful and you ring me and let me know how it went with your aunt. If you need anything I’m here for you.”  
“Thanks Margaery. For everything,” Sansa said as she hugged the older girl goodbye.

Sansa dragged herself up the staircase to her room. When she was half-way up, her mother called out to her.  
“Sansa, don’t you want some dinner? It’s nearly ready?”  
“No thanks Mom. I’m really tired. Margaery and I sat up late last night watching movies. I didn’t get much sleep.”

Another day, yet another lie.

“Oh alright then honey. I’ll see you in the morning. Arya, turn that racket down. Your sister needs to rest!” she yelled in the direction of the lounge room.  
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your hair on,” came the testy reply.  
The volume of the music emanating from the room decreased ever so slightly. Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes skywards.  
“See you Mom.”  
“See you love.”

She closed the door to her room and flung herself on to the bed. She wanted to cry but she had shed so many tears lately that she doubted she had any left. Instead she felt empty and dry as a husk as she contemplated the futility of her situation.

He lied to me about that damn scar. After everything we went through. He swore to me he would be honest with me but the first chance he gets he lies to me again. Why did he lie? Why didn’t he just tell me the truth? It’s so far in the past, what would the harm have been? Does he just lie instinctively? This is a pattern with him. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. It’s never going to change. If nearly losing me didn’t make him see the light last time, what hope is there?

With a sudden start, she sat up in the bed, the truth finally dawning on her.

Oh my God! That’s it. That’s why he lied. It’s not in the past at all. He’s still in love with her! He’s still in love with my mother. That’s why Dad hated him so much. Petyr wants to get back with her so he needs an excuse to stay close. And he thinks I look like she did at my age. He must think all of his Christmases have come at once. He gets to re-live the fantasies of his youth and then he moves on to the real thing. Margaery was right, he’s just using me and no doubt he was using Aunt Lysa too.

Despite herself she did start to cry but they were tears of resentment and anger as much as of hurt. 

I hate you. I hate you so much. You’ve taken everything from me. What am I supposed to do now? I need to get you out of my life and out of my mother’s life. You are like a cancer to everyone you touch. Maybe I should report you to the authorities myself. It’s nothing less than what you deserve.

She wiped the tears from her face and contemplated her next move. While she felt nothing but contempt for him and wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, she knew she would not have it in her heart to actually report him but he didn’t know that. She knew that his biggest punishment would be losing the love of his life – her mother – and being shackled to the wrong sister who he now clearly despised. Tomorrow night she would close her ears to all of his sweet-worded deceits and remove him from her and her mother’s lives forever. It was too late for her but she would not allow him to hurt her mother. Taking off her clothes, Sansa, grabbed her phone and began taking photos of her bite mark and fading bruises.


	18. Necessary Deceptions

The next evening, Petyr sat at his desk in the study perusing some financial reports in preparation for a board meeting scheduled the following morning. As he waited anxiously for Sansa to arrive he reflected on his phone call with Lysa earlier in the day, running through the conversation in his head. All things considered, it could not have gone much better. He felt a welcome return to form.

“Hello Lysa.”  
“Petyr.”  
“I want to say how sorry –”  
“Save it Petyr. I don’t want to hear your apologies. But at least you have the decency to not sit there and pretend it didn’t happen. Unlike that little slut of a niece of mine.”  
“Please don’t blame her Lysa. It’s all my fault.”  
“Why? Because she’s only a child? That didn’t stop you from fucking her,” she snarled.  
“I deserve that. I know what I did was wrong. I don’t know what happened. I –”  
“I really don’t want to hear what went on between the two of you or why it happened. You did it and that’s the bottom line. Did you ever love me Petyr?”   
Her voice sounded tired and resigned. Petyr maintained a deliberate silence.

“Don’t bother replying. Your silence says it all. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report you for having sex with a minor?”  
“If this got out, Sansa would be thrust into the spotlight; her life would be destroyed. She is not responsible for this, I am. If you’re not concerned about that then what do you think it would do to your sister and Arya and to Robb and Jon? You may want to think long and hard about what it will do to them.”

There was a slight pause.

“Are you in love with her Petyr? I know for a fact that she loves you. She practically threw herself on your funeral pyre when I threatened to report you.”  
“No, I don’t love her. I’m fond of her but that’s it. She’s just a kid. And she doesn’t love me Lysa. She’s just confused and overly emotional right now. I can already sense that in the cold light of day she is starting to regret this as much as me.”

Lysa sighed and there was a long silence on the other end of the line. 

“It’s over Petyr.”  
“Is that really what you want?”  
“I’m tired of fighting it. For years I’ve wanted you, it’s always been you. But you only ever had eyes for one woman – a woman you could never have and who did not want you. And now this…..thing with Sansa. What a pair we are.”

She laughed mirthlessly. 

“We can still make a life together if you want it. We can try and put this behind us. We have been in each other’s lives for so long. If -”  
“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me.”

There was another prolonged silence.

“Petyr. I am going to let you go. But one thing I will not abide is you being with her. You need to stay away from her. I am not going to report you on the proviso that I never get wind of you two being together again. Should that happen I will go to the authorities. I will have no choice. Do you understand me?”  
“I understand. But it’s not even an issue. I am meeting her tonight to straighten things out and to say goodbye. After that we will never be alone together again. I know you’re upset and angry right now and you have every right to be but please think about us. Give it time, we could still make it work.”  
“Goodbye Petyr.”

 

Petyr stared absently at the screen of his laptop then noted the time in the bottom corner: 6.45pm. 

She is late. Has something gone wrong? 

Just then the doorbell chimed. 

Thank God.

Petyr strode quickly to the door and flung it open. Sansa stood stiff and unsmiling under the soft lighting of the porch.  
“Sansa,” he smiled. He took her arm and gently pulled her inside.  
She stood staring at him, her face pale, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

What’s wrong with her? Oh Christ. I hope it’s not all this business with Joffrey. Or maybe she’s just worried about my conversation with Lysa. 

He embraced her and kissed her tenderly on the lips but he noted that she did not relax into his arms or return the kiss.  
“How are you dear? I missed you today.”  
“Better for seeing you,” she replied quietly.  
She looked down but then after a moment lifted her face to meet his with a small smile. She placed her hand at the back of his head and brought his lips to hers but it was a brief and chaste kiss.

“Sansa, come and sit with me, I have news.”  
As they settled on the divan, Petyr took in her rigid form. Something definitely seemed off.  
“I spoke to your Aunt Lysa. She was clearly upset but she had obviously had some time to put things in perspective. She no longer wishes to marry me and has agreed to keep our secret as long as we do not see each other again.”  
“How does that help us Petyr?”  
“We have only to lay low until you turn 18. As long as she doesn’t get anything on us while you are under 18 she hasn’t got any evidence that anything ever happened. There are no witnesses, nothing to corroborate her story. I pretended that I still wanted to try and make it work with her so I hope I have managed to keep her somewhat on side.”  
Sansa shuffled closer to him and started to play with the buttons of his shirt.   
“You are so clever. I knew you would be able to turn things around.”

She pushed the sides of his shirt apart and kissed him down his throat to the beginning of his scar.  
“You are such a good liar.”  
“I don’t know if I would put it quite like that, Sansa.”  
Her fingers trailed down the scar.   
“Oh but I would.”

What is going on here? She’s acting very strangely.

Suddenly her fingernails raked across the sensitive skin of the scar. He yelped and grabbed her hand in a vice like grip.  
“What the hell are you doing? That hurt.”  
“Did it? After so many years and it still hurts. I thought any pain would have been well and truly in the past. When you had the car accident you must have really been messed up.”  
“It was a bad injury, as I’ve told you.”  
“You’ve told me a great many things Petyr. Unfortunately very few of them happen to be true.”  
Petyr blanched.

“You fucking arsehole!” she screamed as she shot from the couch to face him.  
He knew he was in big trouble now; he had never heard Sansa swear.  
“Sansa, what’s going on?” he dissembled desperately, knowing full well where this was heading.  
“You lied to me again. I can’t believe you would do that to me? I know about the scar Petyr. I know about you and my mother. What a stupid little fool I’ve been,” she cried.  
“Sansa, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but –”  
“I don’t want to hear it. I know it all now. You still love her don’t you? You’re still in love with my mother. You were only attracted to me because I remind you of her. I’m some sort of freaking consolation price. You wanted to feel what it would be like to be with her when you were both younger – a sick fantasy. And then when you were done, when the time was right, you’d make your move and be with her for real. You are a sick, cruel bastard. You disgust me,” she railed.

“No Sansa,” he cried. “None of that is true. I care for your mother as an old friend but I don’t love her in that way anymore. That died in me years ago.   
“I don’t believe you.”  
“Your mother never loved me. I was only ever like a brother to her. When she rejected me it was the worst day of my life. She didn’t even come to see me in the hospital after I was hurt by your Uncle Brandon. I clinically died on the operating table for Christ’s sake, and she didn’t even check to see if I was alright. After I was released I tried to call her, I wrote her a letter but never had a single reply.”  
“You’re making her sound cruel, Petyr. My mother isn’t cruel. As I understand it, she saved you from my Uncle Brandon.”  
“Oh yes. She saved my life,” he said bitterly. “She saved it only to remove herself from it entirely. I don’t know what you would call it but she knew how I felt about her so I would call it cruel. Very cruel. I was so empty and alone I wished I had died that day. I did not die but she killed my love for her just as surely.”

For a moment her eyes seemed to soften, but she drew herself to her full height and hardened her gaze.  
“I can’t believe a single word you say anymore Petyr. You’ve done nothing but lie and scheme since I met you. You are very good at making people believe that they want the same things as you. I can’t be with someone like that. You’re poison.”  
“Everything I’ve done I’ve done for you. Because I love you. Please Sansa. After everything we’ve been through, we’re so close to having everything we both wanted. Please don’t throw it all away.”  
“But that’s the problem: I don’t want the same things as you. I don’t want everything like you do. All I wanted was you. And I thought that you wanted me too. But you’ve destroyed us like you destroy everything that gets in the way of your success. What is success Petyr? It doesn’t look so good from where I’m standing.”  
“Sansa, please listen to me,” he beseeched her grabbing her by the upper arms.  
“Don’t touch me Petyr. You can’t ever touch me again.”  
His arms dropped uselessly to his sides.

“I don’t want you to talk. I want you to listen,” she continued in a firm steady voice. “There is no more us. We are never going to see each other again, unless by family necessity, and never alone.”  
“But Sansa –”  
“Petyr, don’t speak,” she warned before continuing. “You are going to marry Aunt Lysa and you are going to do your best to make her happy. You are going to leave me and my mother alone.”  
“What!?” he exploded, unable to contain his anger. “I’m not going to marry that woman. Who do you think you are to dictate to me who I do or do not marry? Besides, it’s immaterial. She knows I don’t love her and she won’t take me back anyway.”  
She flinched at his tirade but continued.  
“You’re a resourceful man, Petyr. I have every confidence you can bring her around. You will marry her or I will be forced to go to the authorities myself and report you for what you did to me.”

He stared at her stunned.  
“What I did to you? All I ever did was love you and care for you.”  
“I don’t think the courts would agree with you.”  
“You can’t do this to me. I know you hate me for lying to you but surely you can’t hate me so much that you would want to destroy me like that?”  
She appeared to struggle for a moment but shored up her resolve.   
“I’m going to do what it takes to get you away from me and my mother.”  
“It’s your word against mine Sansa,” he blurted.  
“Not quite. I have taken photos of my injuries. I will tell them that you raped me. I have a witness – Margaery. When she worked out what was going on between us I had to convince her not to report you so I don’t think it would take much convincing to change her mind back. You will go to jail for a very long time.”

He was now truly appalled and hurt beyond measure.  
“Raped you? I am many things Sansa but you know I’m not a rapist. You can’t mean it; how can you even say those words to me when you know how right it was between us,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke her face.   
He thought she would flinch or move away but she allowed the contact. He could see the start of tears in her eyes and her breathing did not come naturally.  
“I don’t want to do it but I will if I have to,” she muttered.  
Sensing an opening he moved closer to her and twined a strand of hair in his fingers.   
“Please Sansa.”  
He leant in to kiss her soft and sweet. She started to return the kiss but pulled away.  
“Goodbye Petyr.”  
Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans she took his hand and placed an envelope in it before swiftly leaving through the front door, closing it quietly behind her.

He sat with a thump on the divan, wiped his face with his hands and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. He studied the envelope but knew what was in it before he opened it. He tore at it impatiently and extracted the front door key he had given her the previous day setting it on the table, Next he pulled out the the mockingbird necklace along with a handwritten note. 

 

Petyr. 

Please understand that I can’t keep this gift from you. I can never look at it again without thinking about you and what might have been. Despite everything that has happened and how much you have hurt me I will always remember our time together. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, part of me will always love you. I like to think that in some small way you might have loved me too. Try to find your happiness.  
Sansa.

Staring blankly at the note he curled his fingers tightly around the mockingbird pendant and hung his head with a deep sigh.


	19. An Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post another chapter later today as this is a short lead into one of the main events. Next chapter: Petyr in a Tux (!) and Lysa being Lysa.

“Arya! Come and sort out the mess you left in the lounge room.”  
“Yes, Mom, in a second” came the exasperated reply from upstairs.  
Sansa was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on their roast dinner when she heard the phone in the lounge room ringing.  
“Hello Lysa. How are you dear?”  
Sansa froze and strained to listen to her mother’s side of the conversation.  
“Oh Lysa! So soon? That’s wonderful news…. Of course we would love to come. I’m so incredibly happy for you both…. Sure. We’ll talk more later in the week. I can’t wait to tell the girls….Okay…. Bye Lysa…. Love you too.”

 

So, Petyr had succeeded. Why had she ever doubted it? She felt tears prickling her eyes but tried to compose herself before heading to the lounge room. Arya dragged herself down the stairs in full teenage Diva mode.  
“That was your Aunt Lysa on the phone. The wedding has been moved forward. She and Mr Baelish are to be married next week. Isn’t that great news?”  
Sansa nodded, shooting her mother a small forced smile; Arya shrugged her shoulders disinterestedly.  
“They’re having the ceremony itself in the gardens of the estate on the Friday evening but it will just be the celebrant and the witnesses. It was Mr Baelish’s idea. Neither of them are religious so they weren’t up for a church ceremony. He thought it would be beautiful and intimate – just the two of them making their vows. ”

Oh, he is good. Saves having to keep up a pretence in front of a congregation. Saves having to do it in front of me, Sansa thought bitterly.

“On the Saturday evening they will be celebrating with a huge reception. Guests are flying in to the Vale from all around Westeros. They are holding it in the ballroom at Eyrie Mansion. Mr Baelish is having us flown in first class and we are staying the night in the main guest rooms. Isn’t that wonderful?” her mother gushed.  
“Yeah Mom. Great,” replied Arya, her eyes rolling to the heavens.  
“It should be nice Mom,” Sansa replied a little more enthusiastically, trying to compensate for her sister’s all too apparent indifference  
“We’ll have to go shopping for something special to wear.”  
“Awww Mom. You’re not going to make me wear a dress are you?” the younger girl whined.  
“Yes I am Arya. You can do it just this once for your Aunt and her new husband. It is a very special occasion and I want you to dress appropriately.”  
Arya huffed and folded her arms with a pout.  
“If you make me wear pink I’m going to kill myself.”  
“Don’t be so dramatic Arya. Sansa sweetheart. You seem a little quiet. Is everything alright?”  
“Yes Mom, just thinking about what I might wear, that’s all. It’s great news. Should be a wonderful reception.” 

Dinner seemed to drag on for an eternity as she quietly endured her mother’s escalating excitement over the upcoming event. Arya had somehow managed to extricate herself from the situation without her mother apparently noticing and had escaped to her room. After clearing the dishes and while helping with the washing up, Sansa turned to her mother deciding that given her buoyant mood, now was as good a time as any.  
“Mom?”  
“Yes honey?”  
“It’s about my birthday.”  
“In three weeks’ time. I haven’t forgotten. How could I forget my baby’s 18th Birthday.”  
She sighed with a wistful look on her face.  
“It seems like only a few years ago I was still changing your diapers. What would you like to do sweetheart? We could have a party or I can pay for you to take some friends out. It’s up to you.”

“Mom, Margaery has offered to take me to her family home in Highgarden. There are some fantastic shops, eateries and clubs in the city and we would have a great time. I would be there for a week over the school break.”  
“I don’t know Sansa,” she replied, a look of motherly concern in her eyes.  
“Please Mom. You know Margaery is trustworthy. Her brother Loras will be there too. The clubs we would be going to are supervised underage ones. And you know you can trust me.”  
Her mother sounded a little sad in response.  
“It’s not that I don’t trust you but I was hoping to spend some time with my beautiful daughter on her special day.”  
“I know Mom, me too. But we can spend as much time together as you want when I get back or before I go. Please Mom? It would mean a lot to me.”  
Her mother paused to consider her request and relented.  
“Sure honey. You’ve worked hard and done really well with your school work lately. I think you should have a reward. Go ahead and have fun.”  
“Thanks Mom,” she smiled as she gave her mother a grateful hug.

Sansa escaped to her room at the earliest opportunity, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it with a deep sigh. It had been nearly three weeks since her last meeting with Petyr and despite her lingering anger, the pain from the loss was still raw. She felt an almost physical pain when she remembered all too clearly the despondent, hurt look in his eyes when she had threatened to falsely report him for raping her. She began to believe in that moment that he did truly love her and that his feelings for her mother were in the past. But he had successfully deceived her previously so how could she possibly trust him again. Either way, it did not take away from the fact that he had still constantly lied to her, probably would always lie to her and that any union between them would have a damaging ripple effect on those around them.

How the hell am I going to get through this reception? How can I watch them together as husband and wife knowing that later they will be making love just rooms away?

Flinging herself on the bed, she succumbed to tears as she had many times since their last confrontation.

Petyr. I hate you for what you did to me. But why can’t I stop loving you.


	20. A Dance With the Devil (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted twice today so if you missed chapter 19, you might want to check it out. This sequence is in two parts. Next up a dance, a hedge maze and a jealous Petyr.

After a short cab ride from the airport, they had arrived at the mansion to an excited, flapping Lysa who had quickly shown them to the upstairs guest bedrooms before scurrying off to check on the progress of the ballroom decorations. Petyr was running some errands so had not been there to greet them. Sansa had felt a mixture of relief but also disappointment at his absence but soon became distracted by the process of unpacking and readying herself for the big event.

Some hours later as they walked down the main staircase of Eyrie Mansion Sansa wrung her hands nervously and fiddled with a strand of hair that curled down from her elaborate chignon. Her mother misinterpreted the nature of her discomfiture.  
“You look lovely Sansa sweetheart” she said encouragingly. “You too Arya.”  
Arya pulled and fussed at her plain midnight blue satin dress, fuming at the absurdity of its feminine confinement. Her mother had tried to steer her towards prettier colours, styles and lacy fabrics but effected a strategic withdrawal when she understood that she would have to choose her battles carefully if she had any hope of coercing Arya into any dress at all. As it was, Arya’s laments had still been loud and persistent. She couldn’t run or jump properly, she felt like a complete dork; why did women wear these incredibly impractical things? And the shoes! Were they invented by the Spanish Inquisition as an especial method of torture for women? They’re hurting already. And so on and on it went.

Her mother wore a sophisticated flowing emerald green strapped chiffon gown with Swarovski crystal detail on the bodice. Sansa thought her mother had never looked more stunning. She herself had agonized over her choice as they had shopped but had finally chosen an azure blue floor length strapless silk gown that highlighted her sparkling eyes and revealed her milky white shoulders and arms. The bodice plunged just enough to accentuate her cleavage and moulded her to perfection, highlighting her slim waist. There was a mid-thigh high split at one side of the cascading skirt that revealed her long slender legs as she walked. She had allowed her mother to apply a little mascara and eyeshadow to create a smoky eye and the slightest brush of blush on her high cheekbones to accentuate her features. Sansa had felt slightly uncomfortable with the wine coloured lipstick her mother had chosen for her as it was much darker than the nude lip glosses she usually favoured. But she had to admit that it transformed her lips into a sensual pout, complemented her auburn tresses and brought out the milkiness of her complexion.

 

“Let’s have a look outside first,” suggested her mother.  
As they moved through the foyer towards the front entrance and out to the portico Sansa took in the early evening beauty of Eyrie estate. The trees on either side of the driveway had been strung with a galaxy of twinkling fairy lights. The perimeter of the mansion was encircled by rose bushes of every conceivable hue. She could make out the edges of an extensive garden including a mature and immaculately maintained hedge maze to the rear of the mansion. An impressive collection of vintage and luxury vehicles was parked in front of the building; guests dressed in all their finery milled around enjoying the cool crisp evening air; chatter and laughter wove their way through the strident screech of cicada song. 

 

Sansa was pleased although somewhat abashed to note that some of the male guests turned to stare appreciatively at her as she passed and wondered what Petyr’s reaction would be when he saw her. She knew she shouldn’t care but there it was. Sansa’s stomach fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension as her grip tightened around her evening bag and a silk wrap that matched her gown. The light breeze caught her dress, separating it at the split, revealing her long legs and small slender feet sheathed in impossibly high metallic silver sandals. As she proceeded she spotted a familiar figure under the portico leaning casually against a column staring intently in her direction, wineglass held in one elegant silver-ringed hand. 

Petyr.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest and her stomach flipped as she gathered her composure and then glided as elegantly as she could in Petyr’s direction, praying that the amount of practice she had put into walking in her new shoes had not been wasted and that she would not fall arse over tit and ruin the whole effect. He was impossibly handsome with his black immaculately fitted Ralph Lauren tuxedo conforming perfectly to his lithe and manly physique, his hair as always impeccably styled. His eyes never left her. As she neared so intense was his gaze that he resembled a predator sizing up its prey. She shivered involuntarily and felt her face flush. For a brief moment she felt they were the only two present, everything and everyone else around them had faded away. 

Suddenly, as though snapping out of a trance, Petyr straightened and walked towards them closing the gap and extending his hand to her mother, his trademark smirk quirking the side of his mouth. He focused mainly on the woman in front of him and glanced briefly down at Arya but did not look in Sansa’s direction at all, a deliberate and calculated slight that was not lost on her. Although she was still angry with him, his lack of reaction to her was a crushing blow and she knew that he was all too aware of it. She swallowed thickly.

 

“Catelyn dear. Or should I say ‘Sister-in-Law’. You look exquisite tonight.”  
“You look very handsome Petyr,” replied her mother as he lightly kissed the back of her hand.  
“Thank you for inviting us. It will be wonderful to share this night with you and Lysa.”  
“That is our absolute pleasure. We consider ourselves very lucky to have our family here with us tonight.”  
“I am only sorry that Robb and his family and Jon weren’t able to make it. It was too short notice,” Catelyn sighed.  
Petyr shot Sansa the quickest of glances.  
“We are too, Catelyn. But Lysa and I could not wait any longer to be joined together as husband and wife. You know how it is.”  
Sansa felt a queasiness in her stomach and blushed hotly. Her mother smiled broadly.

 

Petyr bent to Arya next.  
“And who have we here? I almost did not recognise you. Arya that is a very becoming dress.”  
The young girl shot him a hairy eyeball, her look telling him he was currently the stupidest creature on the planet but Petyr was unperturbed.  
“We have some guests around your age that I will introduce you to in a moment. I think you’ll like them.”  
“Thank you Uncle Petyr,” she replied glumly while rather miraculously still remembering her manners.  
Petyr grinned and winked at her. 

 

He stood upright to face Sansa, taking her hand in his. His gentle squeeze of her fingers reminded her of the first time he touched her in her bedroom. Her breathing stopped as he brought her fingers to his lips, staring right at her, his eyes glinting but his face unreadable.  
“Sansa. I have missed our talks together. I hope you have been well.”  
“Yes thank you Uncle. Congratulations on your marriage,” she replied softly but steadily.  
“Thank you dear. The young men here tonight will be very taken with you and your attentions will be in demand but you must promise your old Uncle a dance later, yes?”  
Sansa’s heart skipped a beat and she felt that familiar fluttering in her belly and a warmth suffusing her at the touch of his hand and lips and the sound of his voice. The prospect of dancing with him flustered her even further. She could not believe the effect this man still had on her, despite everything that had happened.  
“Of course Uncle. I look forward to it,” she replied trying to maintain a polite and formal tone.  
Petyr searched her eyes for a moment, released her hand and then gestured for them to enter the mansion.  
“Come let’s find my lovely wife.”

 

Petyr walked them through the vast foyer and down the main hallway past multiple guests into the magnificent ballroom. Two large crystal chandeliers glimmered and sparkled; the walls were hung with intricate tapestries, austere Arryn and Tully ancestral portraits and stunning rural landscapes in huge gilded frames. Tables lined the perimeter of the room, decorated with tall white floral arrangements, the finest porcelain tableware, crystal glassware and gold plated cutlery. At the top of the room a stage had been erected to house a sextet currently playing 1920’s and 30’s jazz standards. Waiting staff appeared and disappeared like apparitions efficiently proffering beverages and canapes from silver serving trays.

 

In one corner of the room stood a group of guests conversing. Although her back was turned Sansa recognised her aunt’s tall form and steeled herself for her next challenge.  
“Lysa dear, may I present the Ladies Stark,” Petyr announced with a flourish.  
Lysa turned swiftly to regard them, her grin broad as her gaze swept over her mother and Arya. As her eyes met Sansa’s she detected a tightening of the lips but so imperceptible was it that it would have gone unnoticed by all but her and Petyr.  
“Catelyn, Arya, Sansa,” she gushed. “You look spectacular.”  
Her mother hugged Lysa.  
“I am so happy for you Lysa. Marriage certainly seems to agree with you. You look beautiful.”

 

Lysa did indeed glow in a way that Sansa had not seen before. Her tall slender body was sheathed in a form fitting white gown with sequin detail; her dark auburn hair which had been highlighted for the occasion shone and cascaded in gentle waves. Her facial features appeared to have softened somehow. Sansa felt an unwelcome stab of jealousy.  
“My husband is a wonderful man,” Lysa oozed, gazing sweetly at Petyr who smiled stiffly in return.  
“We had a lovely wedding and an amaaaaaazing wedding night. I am a very lucky woman.”  
Lysa’s gaze settled on Sansa, her eyes boring into her with glee. Petyr also glanced quickly in her direction, his expression indecipherable. Sansa cursed inwardly as she felt a light blush suffuse her cheeks. Looking away she spied Arya making a puking gesture with her finger and mouth. Luckily no one else seemed to notice.  
“Nonsense dear. I am the lucky one,” Petyr countered quickly. “Ladies, please excuse me for a few moments while I introduce Arya and Sansa to some of our guests. I’ll be back momentarily.”

 

With that Petyr led Arya and Sansa to a group of younger girls and boys around Arya’s age who already sat at one of the tables. After some quick introductions, Arya gravitated towards a dark haired boy who she had discovered had a love of metal work and rowing. She settled in to an adjacent chair and began chatting animatedly with him while Petyr and Sansa stood all but forgotten.  
“I think those two will keep each other amused all night,” Petyr grinned. 

As they moved away Petyr leaned in slightly closer to speak quietly in Sansa’s ear. Although she was facing away from Lysa she was sure they were being closely observed so his proximity discomfited her.  
“I don’t think I have ever seen you look more beautiful Sansa.”  
“Thank you Uncle,” she answered politely.  
“Won’t you call me by my name when we are alone?”  
“We are hardly alone though, are we?”  
Petyr sighed then walked towards another group of guests around her age, some a little older, that stood to the side of the dance floor.  
After introductions, Petyr walked back to join his wife and sister-in-law leaving Sansa to her own devices.


	21. A Dance With the Devil (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some ballroom shenanigans. Next up, a little Varys

The others in the group were really not her kind of people. If she were honest, most of them appeared to be analogues of her annoying classmates at King’s Landing High, full of swaggering self-importance and arrogance. The girls regarded her with cold bitchy stares and continued their own conversations effectively shutting her out; the boys ogled her and smirked and preened immaturely, boasting of their overseas holiday homes, the size of their father’s yachts, their cars and estates, their inheritances, and other tiresome banalities. Sansa tried to appear interested but was becoming increasingly bored and irritated when suddenly she felt an elbow ever so gently nudge her arm. A young man, perhaps in his early twenties had appeared at her side and was looking down at her with a friendly smile.

 

“Are you having a good time, Miss…?”  
“Umm. Yes. Sansa. My name is Sansa Stark. I am the newlyweds’ niece.  
“My name is Edward Tarly. Pleased to meet you.”  
As she shook his hand she noted how strong and large it was as it encased her in its firm grasp. Edward was tall, solidly built with wide shoulders, strong chest and narrow hips. His blonde hair curled somewhat messily framing a square jaw and dimpled cheeks. His deep blue eyes were kind and warm. It was as though her fairy godmother had waved a wand over one of the dashing heroes pictured in one of her childhood storybooks and he had magically appeared beside her, flesh and blood. She could not help but feel great satisfaction in the fact that the other girls in the group had noticed Edward’s appearance by her side and were shooting her jealous looks. Peering over his shoulder Sansa could see Petyr conversing with her aunt and mother but his eyes flicked up occasionally to regard them.

 

The band had commenced their slower song set so Petyr led his new wife on to the floor for their first dance. Sansa noticed with a pang how gracefully Petyr moved his partner around as he held her body close. When the song and their dance finished to appreciative applause other guests partnered up and made their way to join the ‘happy’ couple.  
“Would you care to dance Sansa?” asked Edward offering her his arm.  
“Yes I would like that,” she answered sincerely. Despite his pleasing features, she was not really attracted to Edward but he appeared personable and genuine, so unlike the Kings Landing clones they had just left. She would enjoy his company for the night and it would be a welcome distraction. They walked arm in arm towards the middle of the dance floor.  
“So what do you do Edward?”  
“I’m at university. Third year of a Bachelor in Architecture at Wickendon, south of here on the coast. And you?”  
“Twelfth grade at Kings Landing High.  
“Oohh. Hoity Toity,” he teased.  
“I’d gladly swap with you.”  
“No, I think I’m good. Never could stand those uppity types,” he smirked as he glanced pointedly at the group they had recently left.  
She laughed with him.  
He took her hand in his and his other hand sat lightly on her hip keeping his body at a polite distance from hers. She noticed with dismay that when he made contact with her she felt none of the thrill that she had whenever Petyr touched her. 

Whenever Petyr came into view his eyes were searing into her, his lips tight, his brow slightly furrowed. Annoyed by his obvious possessiveness to which she felt he had no entitlement and feeling suddenly emboldened, Sansa drew Edward closer, to the young man’s evident surprise as he stiffened slightly before relaxing into her. Sansa risked a glance at Petyr who shot her a warning look in return. She smiled as serenely as she could at him, extremely gratified by the jealous reaction that he had been unable to mask. After the end of the song Petyr and Lysa moved off to talk to some other guests at one of the tables but she noticed that he had positioned himself so he could continue to survey the dance floor, his eyes shifting to her whenever he had the opportunity. She steeled herself and proceeded to ignore him completely, focusing on the young man in front of her and engaging him as enthusiastically as she could in conversation. 

Sansa and Edward continued to dance and talk amiably for some time, until Petyr suddenly manifested at their side. They turned to face him, separating with a smile.  
“I see that you are monopolising my niece, Edward. Have you forgotten you promised to dance with your uncle, my sweet?” he asked with a tight smile.  
Sansa noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes and that his voice carried a brittle edge. Luckily her dance partner appeared entirely oblivious to it.  
“Hi Mr Baelish. Congratulations on your marriage,” Edward stated politely.  
“Thank you Edward. Would you mind…?”  
“Of course not sir.”

Once Edward had departed, Petyr wove his arm around Sansa’s waist and took her right hand in his while she gingerly placed her left hand on his shoulder. He held her as close as propriety would allow. She could not hide a blush at the contact of his warm strong hands and had to hold herself back from crushing her body against his. She could smell wine on his breath and wondered if he might be a little drunk.  
“Sansa dear, are you enjoying yourself with young Master Edward? You seem to be getting on rather well.”  
“He’s very nice Uncle and yes, I am having a good time.”  
Petyr stared fixedly at her. Keeping his voice low at almost a whisper, he continued.  
“You held him quite close Sansa. Do you think that is wise? I know you are not really interested in him. It would not do to give the young man the wrong idea.”  
“What I do is really none of your business anymore. And how would you know if I am interested in him or not?” she hissed icily.  
“I know you. I know your body. I know how you react when you are touched and you desire more,” he rasped.

Sansa gasped and squirmed uncomfortably as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and moved his other hand up her back so that his thumb rubbed against the bare skin between her shoulder blades.  
Sansa had suddenly become very aware of Lysa’s scrutiny and was beginning to panic.  
“You have to stop. Aunt Lysa is watching us.”  
“That is your trouble Sansa. You cannot hide what you feel. Especially from me. You never could. You see, I know for instance that right now you want me to touch you like I used to touch you when we were all alone. When I made you all hot and wet for me. You miss it as much as I do. You cannot deny it,” he whispered silkily.  
Her lips parted with a deep intake of breath and she lowered her gaze unable to formulate a response.

 

“And I was wrong before,” he continued.  
“About what?” she asked breathlessly.  
Petyr leaned in close to her ear.  
“About how beautiful you are tonight. That I had never seen you look more beautiful. That was not true. When you were naked and hot underneath me, with your gorgeous breasts pressed against me, your hair all over my pillow, your warm soft thighs wrapped around me, my cock deep inside that perfect pussy. That was beautiful, so beautiful,” he murmured.  
Sansa’s breathing quickened and she felt heat building between her thighs. She could feel her whole body beginning to react to his seductive words and the warm press of his hand on her back but took a deep breath, steadied herself and replied as coldly as she could.  
“You should get back to your wife, Uncle. She will be missing you.”  
“My wife,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “And yet, all I can think of is being here with you. Do you know what it does to me when I see another man touching you?” he mumbled.  
Sansa broke from the dance and smiled at him as calmly as she could.  
“Thank you for the dance Uncle.”

She turned from him and made her way out of the ballroom to the portico, breathing rapidly, desperately trying to regain her composure. She looked for Edward but was unable to find him. Relishing the coolness of the night air as it gradually calmed her fraying nerves and soothed her flushed face, Sansa strolled to the back of the mansion and headed into the hedge maze, intrigued. She gradually worked her way towards the centre of the maze, stretching out her arms and running the tips of her fingers across the foliage at either side of her as she went. At the centre was a large bird bath, its fountain of water splashing and twinkling in the moonlight. She stood for some time enjoying the seclusion and shelter of the maze; music, laughter and chatter from the party susurrated through the air. She reached out the fingers of one hand to the tinkling water of the fountain.

 

“What a lovely sight you make.”  
Sansa whirled around in shock.  
“Petyr! What are you doing out here? Why did you follow me?”  
He walked slowly towards her. “What happened to ‘Uncle’?”  
“I- I-,” she stuttered. “Aunt Lysa. What if she notices you are missing?”  
“She’s nicely preoccupied with the catering presently. Much too distracted to worry about me.”  
Sansa attempted to weave around him but Petyr moved to block her path.

“Please Petyr. Please leave me alone,” she pleaded.  
“I could have sworn that you were trying to make me jealous in there. Was I wrong?” he asked as he took several slow steps towards her, closing the gap.  
“No. I mean yes. Please just let me go.”  
“Is that really what you want, Sansa?”  
“Yes. It’s really what I want.”  
“So you don’t want this?”  
He stretched out his hand and smoothed it slowly down the cool skin of her bare arm.  
She gasped at his touch and backed into the edge of the bird bath. He moved closer until they were merely inches apart. She could feel heat radiating from his body.  
“And you don’t want this?”  
He leant over and kissed the soft skin of her neck underneath her earlobe eliciting a small whimper from Sansa who grabbed on to the bird bath and leaned back on it for support.  
“Or this?” Petyr trailed kisses down her throat until he reached her collarbone. He raised his head to regard her, his eyes filled with lust.  
Her breathing had become rapid and her lips had parted slightly.

“Or this?”  
He suddenly grabbed her around the waist and crushed her to him; she could feel the bulge between his legs pushing at the apex of her thighs. His eyes seared into hers then he stared at her mouth before he brought his lips to hers in a kiss so charged with passion that her whole body quaked with the intensity of her pleasure. Her arms moved from the bird bath to grab at his hair as his kiss travelled from her mouth and down to the doe soft skin at her chest while his hands moved to her breasts, massaging and tweaking her nipples through the fabric of her gown. She bit at her bottom lip to prevent herself from making any sound as his lips kissed at the swell of her breasts. His hands travelled down her waist and slicked over her hips and thighs. Finding the split in her dress he moved his hand up her inner thigh until his long fingers brushed lightly against the fabric of her panties at her sex. 

 

She whimpered and started to struggle against him as her rational side began to take hold. He wriggled his forefinger under the elastic of her panties and slid it along her moist folds, finding her clit and circling it slowly.  
“No. Petyr,” she whined, fighting against her growing arousal.  
“I’ve missed you so much. I love you Sansa,” he rasped, his breathing ragged. “You and only you. Tell me you love me too. Tell me you want this. Say it.” he whispered.  
His free hand moved to his fly and began to unzip his pants while he continued to massage her clit.  
“Petyr. I can’t. Petyr, please stop” she sobbed as she grabbed desperately at his hands.  
Her pleas finally seemed to reach him as he froze and dropped his hands sucking in deep breaths, his eyes smouldering. His hands moved up to cradle the sides of her face and after a moment of regarding her tear stained face he kissed her lightly and drew away.  
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he muttered before he turned and disappeared around a bend in the maze.


	22. A Little Conversation

Petyr strode into the ballroom, smiling and conversing with several guests while gradually making his way towards Lysa who was talking with her sister and a couple of elderly female guests.  
“Petyr dear, there you are,” smiled Lysa, her eyes narrowed, her speech slurring.  
She was clearly affected by the champagne he noticed she had been drinking with some considerable enthusiasm. He could hardly be a hypocrite about it though as he had downed enough wine himself to drown an elephant.  
“Hello dear. I was outside speaking with some of our guests.”  
Lysa turned and addressed Catelyn. “I haven’t seen Sansa for a while, have you?” She turned back and stared suspiciously at Petyr.  
“The last I saw she was talking with Edward Tarly. They seem to be hitting it off from what I could see,” replied Petyr smoothly.  
“My dear would you mind if I dance with my lovely sister-in-law?” he asked holding out his arm to Catelyn.  
“Please do,” replied Lysa, eyeing Petyr with an unfathomable look.

Petyr inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he moved away with Catelyn, escaping his new wife’s suffocating scrutiny. As they walked they spied Sansa entering the ballroom; he was grateful to note that she appeared to have regained her composure although there was a definite tension in her body as she moved. She strode purposefully towards Lysa, not looking in their direction. A short conversation ensued, ending with Sansa kissing the older woman on the cheek and exiting the ballroom heading towards the main staircase from the foyer. Lysa’s eyes followed her and then snapped back to him with what looked suspiciously to him like an air of smug triumph.  
Catelyn and Petyr shared questioning looks but neither commented.

 

“Petyr I wanted to tell you how much it means to me to see my sister so happy. Life has been hard on her at times and you are just what she needs.”  
“Thank you Cat. She is a special woman. I think we can make each other very happy. We have still to sort out where we will end up living – our work commitments will keep us apart during the week. For the time being we will see each other mainly on the weekends.”  
It was an inestimable blessing to think that work would get in the way of his ‘love’ life, at least temporarily, although the unfortunate side effect of their forced separations was that it made Lysa more 'enthusiastic' when they finally did come together. He had somehow managed to stall the nightmare of a honeymoon too under the guise of work commitments but it would only be a matter of time. He grimaced internally at the thought.

 

“Petyr, I need to ask you something. Not about Lysa, about Sansa.”  
His body stiffened involuntarily for a second but he forced himself to relax.  
“Of course, Cat. You know how much I care for Sansa. Is something the matter?”  
“I don’t know. She seems a little down. I really thought that she had turned the corner but then when you stopped coming, she changed. Did something happen between the two of you?”  
Petyr’s breathing stopped. 

What is she getting at? Does she know or sense something? 

“Did the two of you have a disagreement?”

Oh thank Christ. 

“No. She was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t be there to help her with her studies, but other than that, no. We actually got on very well.”  
Petyr winced at his choice of words. He continued in a rush trying to dispel images of their intense lovemaking from his mind.  
“I have to say that I am disappointed too. You do know that if there was any way that I could be there for her I would be.”  
“I know Petyr. Please don’t think I am blaming you. She seems to be doing much better with her schoolwork. She has been focusing on little else. But ironically that worries me too now. She hardly seems to leave her room anymore. She’s so serious all the time and just not the fun-loving girl she used to be.”  
Petyr felt a stab of remorse as he realised that he was the cause of her malaise.

 

“Perhaps she regarded me as a substitute father figure of sorts and when I stopped coming she felt it as a greater loss than she should have. I’ll speak to her if it would help.”  
“I would really appreciate it Petyr.”  
“It’s her birthday in a couple of weeks. Perhaps I can pop in and spend some proper time with her,” he suggested.  
“Oh, that is really thoughtful of you but she won’t actually be home. Margaery is taking her to Highgarden for a week. I think it will be good for her. Margaery is the one shining light in Sansa’s life. She really is a sweet girl.”  
Petyr was disappointed to miss an opportunity to be with Sansa but gladdened that she would have the time to enjoy with her close friend.  
“That’s terrific. I’m sure it is just what she needs. I’ll still come by though, soon. I’ll ring and set something up. Count on it.”  
“Thanks Petyr. That means a lot to me. Shall we join Lysa?”  
“Certainly, my dear.” 

 

Petyr led Catelyn towards her sister, who turned to regard them, smiling.  
“Lysa dear, where did Sansa go?”  
“She is not feeling herself Catelyn. She has the start of a migraine. She did look terribly pale and her eyes were a little watery. She apologised and also to you Petyr but she has gone up to her room to rest. She will try to re-join us later if she can.”  
“Oh that is a shame,” he muttered.  
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Petyr, but I might go and check on her; will you excuse me?” asked Catelyn.  
“Of course,” replied Lysa. “Please tell her to take care of herself. She needn’t feel compelled to come back down if she doesn’t feel up to it. We understand, don’t we dear?”  
“Yes Lysa. You’re right, as always,” replied Petyr.  
He couldn’t help but feel that Lysa would be far from disappointed if Sansa did not make a reappearance. 

 

The night progressed in a blur of conversation, other peoples’ laughter, speeches and toasts. Petyr found himself so completely distracted by Sansa’s absence and shamed by their earlier encounter that he struggled to recall any of the finer details of the night. The wine he had consumed in some quantity earlier in the night had not helped either, although after a period of abstinence the fog was now beginning to lift. He recalled a bitingly sarcastic but admittedly hilarious speech delivered by Varys that had the guests howling with laughter. Had he not been so thoroughly distracted he probably would have laughed as well even if it was at his own expense. As it was he sat with what he hoped looked like a wide smile plastered on his face knowing full well he wasn’t fooling Varys for one second. 

 

Why the hell had he decided to invite the man anyway? He obviously enjoyed torturing himself. He recalled a vaguely unsettling encounter with Varys just prior to his speech. 

 

“Ah, there you are Baelish. Nice tux, but then you always did know how to present yourself in the best possible light.”  
Petyr smiled insincerely but made no comment.  
“Congratulations on…. all of this,” Varys continued as he swept his arm in a wide arc, his eyes narrowed in mischief.  
“If I didn’t know you better I would think you were a little envious, Varys. Or perhaps put out by the fact that you were not able to deny me this in some way.”  
“Not at all. Thwarting you has never been my primary ambition, I promise you. Although, who doesn't like to see their friends fail now and then.” *

Petyr changed tack, affecting a bored tone.  
“I trust you are having a tolerable evening,”  
“Your hospitality, as expected, is second to none. Although it would appear that not everyone appreciates the effort.”  
Varys’s gaze lingered pointedly at the empty seat that should have contained Sansa. Petyr did his best to ignore it but the man would not be deterred.  
“It’s quite extraordinary Baelish, the more I think about it.”  
Petyr was steadily losing patience for the game but sighed deeply and responded disinterestedly.  
“What’s that Varys?”  
“Here I was thinking ‘Poor Baelish. Here is someone very much like myself. Always the loner. Always in the shadows. No real friends, no family. No one with which to share his deepest, darkest thoughts, his many secrets.’ And then voila. Here you are instantly surrounded by not one, not two, but three truly impressive Tully Stark women. Cream really does always rise to the top, it would seem.”  
“I am a fortunate man indeed to have been gifted with this family,” he countered evenly.  
“Indeed,” replied Varys. “Although you may have some difficulty dividing your attentions amongst three women. They can be so demanding of one’s affections. But I don’t suppose I need to tell you that.”  
“Forgive me Varys,” Petyr snapped finally having lost his tolerance, “but I imagine that is something that you would know very little about, seeing as we both know you don’t have the equipment necessary to keep one woman interested let alone three.”

 

It was a low blow and a dangerous one given that Varys was about to give a speech about him to a room full of guests but the man was getting uncomfortably close to the truth and needed to be diverted. However, jibes about the terrible car accident that robbed Varys of his manhood seemed to flow off him like water off a duck’s back. It wasn’t as though the man had not heard it all before. Apart from a slight clench of the jaw and a narrowing of the eyes Varys showed no reaction.  
“That is true my friend. But I suspect that my life is a whole lot less complicated than yours is about to become. There is always a silver lining if one is prepared to look for it.”  
With that Varys had drawn away, to Petyr’s eternal relief. Annoyingly, he could not disagree with the man’s undoubtedly accurate assessment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Forgive me the indulgence of weaving in my absolute favourite line from the show spoken by Varys during the brilliant "Ladder of Chaos" scene in the Episode "The Climb" from Season 3 Episode 6.


	23. A Line In the Sand

After politely applauding Varys’s speech, Petyr remembered standing to deliver a toast in honour of his new bride and being acutely aware of the empty seat beside Catelyn but could not remember exactly what he had said. He recalled laughter and some clapping and some affectionate ooh’s and aah’s from the guests and Lysa appeared to have been touched and had kissed him lovingly and rather messily upon finishing so he reasoned that the speech had somehow passed muster. As much as he missed her presence he was relieved Sansa was not there to witness the duplicitousness of his declaration of love for his new wife.

 

After the last of the guests had left and the serving staff had commenced clean-up, Petyr turned to Lysa who looked as though she would collapse from exhaustion and from consuming too much champagne.  
“Lysa dear. Why don’t you head upstairs? I’ll be there shortly. I just want to sort out a few things down here first.”  
“Yes husband, but don’t be long. I have beautiful plans for tonight that require your full participation,” she slurred, eying him suggestively.  
He forced a smile while repressing a shudder as she turned and swayed somewhat unsteadily towards the master bedroom. If there was a God the alcohol would take its toll and render her incapable of realising her ‘beautiful plans.’ Unfortunately, taking account of recent events he suspected there was no God, at least not one that was on speaking terms with him.

Petyr waited until he was sure that Lysa had retired then strode swiftly up the staircase to the guest rooms. Each of the Starks had been given their own room and fortunately Lysa had discussed the arrangements with him so he knew which room had been allocated to Sansa. He approached the door to her room and carefully pushed it open, closing it quietly behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the light in the room, they came to rest on Sansa’s sleeping form, her features gently illuminated by a pale moonlight glow from the bedroom window. She had thrown off her covers and was lying on her side facing him, clad in a short revealing black strapped satin nightdress. Petyr froze as he stared at her stunning beauty. The perfect lips, her shimmering red hair pooling on the pillow and around her head in a fiery halo; the alabaster skin of her slender neck, her décolletage, and graceful limbs were radiant in the moonlight. He knew that turning around and leaving would be the right thing to do but he was after all, rarely a man to do the right thing. After some time he slowly approached and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

 

Eventually he reached out to touch her face and gently swipe at a stray tendril of hair that had settled near her mouth. She stirred at the contact, then suddenly her eyes snapped open. Petyr’s hand clapped over her mouth as a scream threatened to escape her throat.  
“Ssssssh. It’s just me. It’s Petyr,” he whispered.  
When he sensed that she had sufficiently calmed he removed his hand.  
“Petyr? What? What are you doing here?”  
As the haze of sleep lifted she must have become aware of how exposed she was to him and remembering what had happened in the hedge maze, she sat up grabbing at the bedclothes to cover herself, unsure of his intentions. Petyr held up his hands as if in surrender, and shushed her.  
“It’s alright, I won’t touch you.”  
“You shouldn’t be here. You should be in bed with your wife,” she mumbled.  
“She’s had too much to drink and is likely fast asleep. I came to make sure you were alright. From before. I am so sorry. I never should have touched you like that without your consent. I don’t know what came over me,” he said ruefully.  
Sansa regarded him for a moment then sighed.  
“It was just as much my fault Petyr. Part of me hoped you would follow me. Part of me wanted you to touch me. Part of me wanted it to go further. But I can’t, we can’t,” she finished in a trembling whisper.

 

He looked forlornly at her.  
“What have I done to you? I’m so worried about you. Your mother is worried about you. I would give anything to see you as you were before all of this happened. This is my fault – I have done nothing but hurt you since we met.”  
“It’s on me too. I was the one who pushed you, remember. You tried to warn me off, you tried to tell me what you are. But I didn’t want to hear it. I thought I was with Petyr but Littlefinger is always there lurking in the background somewhere. He’ll always be there, I know that now. And while he’s there Petyr is lost to me,” she sniffled.  
Petyr stared at her taken aback that she would use his nickname against him again after he had told her how much he loathed it but he understood and could not argue. She had the right of it. As much as he loved her he could not change what he was at his core. And if he were completely honest, he did not wish to. The simple truth was that he could not give her what she needed, what she deserved. He nodded his head in resignation.

 

“I’m going to leave you now, Sansa. I want you to remember how much I love you. But I can’t be the man you want me to be; the man you need me to be and that you deserve. I will never be that man. We will see each other from time to time but I know we can never be together again.”  
Sansa nodded in return and lowered her gaze. Petyr reached out with his hand and lifted her chin to stare into her eyes.  
“Can you do one thing for me? Please say you will take this back.”  
He withdrew the silver mockingbird pendant from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it in her hand.  
“Please say you will keep it and try to think of me, of us, fondly. I will always be here for you.”  
She curled her fingers around the pendant. “Yes. Yes I will,” she murmured.  
He leaned in and kissed her quickly before standing. “Good bye Sansa.”  
“Goodbye Petyr.” 

As Petyr hurried from Sansa’s room, his cell phone rang out stridently.  
“Hello. Oh it’s you Royce. Any word yet? Oh I should have foreseen that. Well keep on it. I have to know where he is. It’s imperative. Good Night Royce.”  
Petyr terminated the call and stared down at the phone. He should have known that Joffrey Baratheon would cover his tracks. His name had not appeared on any flight manifests from the day of his departure so he had obviously used a fake identity. Royce was attempting to access the airport security camera footage but it was taking way too long; time was running out and the trail was getting cold. Next week, if Royce still had no result, he would have no choice but to release the photos to the police so the manhunt could begin.


	24. Turning Point

Enjoying the tranquillity of an empty house, Sansa stretched out on the couch in the lounge room to read James Joyce’s “The Dead” for her next English assignment. Her mother and sister had left to do some grocery shopping and wouldn’t be back for hours. Her peace was short-lived however as an urgent knocking sounded at the back door.  
“What on earth?” she exclaimed as she walked right up to the door and called out loudly.  
“Who’s there?”  
“Sansa, it’s me. Quickly, let me in.”  
“Petyr? What are you doing out there?”  
She yanked the door open and stepped aside to allow him entry.  
“I need to talk to you but I had to make sure I’m not spotted. I parked down the road and slipped in through the side gate. Lysa still doesn’t trust me. She may have arranged for your house to be watched so I couldn’t risk using the front entry.”  
“What is it Petyr?” she asked anxiously.  
“Can we sit?”  
“Sure. Come through.”

 

As they settled on the couch in the lounge room, Petyr took her hand in his.  
“Sansa, it’s about Joffrey and Robert,” he said gently.  
“What about them?” she stammered.  
“I’ve had Royce on the case for some time now but he and his team haven’t had any success in locating Joffrey. He’s covered his tracks very well. He has to be contained but I can’t do it on my own.”  
“I’m scared Petyr.”  
“Don’t be. He would be a fool to return to King’s Landing. I am sure he is far from here by now. I have anonymously sent a copy of the incriminating photographs along with some supporting information to police headquarters. It won’t be long before they launch an investigation. I imagine there will be quite a shit storm at work when they come for Robert.”

Sansa touched his arm, “You did that for me?”  
“Yes, I did it for you. But I also did it for all the young women out there who could possibly fall foul of that little prick. I can’t let another innocent girl suffer at his hands. The risk is too great. He is out of control and he has to be stopped now. If something else were to happen and I had the power to stop it and didn’t, I would never forgive myself.”  
“You did the right thing. Thank you Petyr.” She hugged him close but he withdrew from her quickly.  
“I just wanted to forewarn you so you were prepared when it hits the media, which it most certainly will, in a big way. And I came for another reason. To give you this.”

 

Petyr handed her a gold coloured envelope.  
“What’s this?”  
She looked at it curiously, a small smile on her face.  
“This is an early birthday gift, seeing as I won’t get to see you on the actual day.”  
“I wish you could though. You didn’t have to get me anything. Besides you already gave me the beautiful necklace. That was more than enough.”  
“I wanted to. Open it.”  
She opened the envelope. As she scanned the pages inside she dropped the envelope and its contents in her lap and smiled brightly at him.  
“Petyr! That’s a perfect present. Thank you so much. You couldn’t have thought of anything I would love more,” she exclaimed sincerely.  
He had organised a round of advanced cookery lessons with some of the top instructors at the KL Culinary Institute, widely regarded as the best in Westeros and also a personalised letter inviting her to a private lesson with one of the most renowned chefs in the city who was one of his business acquaintances. He specialised in Myrish cuisine which was Sansa’s favourite.  
“I’m pleased you like it,” he smiled.

 

“I’m so glad you came today so that I can tell my mother where I got this from. When she sees me wear it I will tell her you came to visit today and it was part of your gift to me.”  
Sansa pulled the mockingbird pendant from her jeans pocket.  
“I’ve carried it with me everywhere since you returned it to me. Will you help me with it?”  
“That would make me very happy.”  
Petyr looked touched as he took it from her. He swept her hair over one shoulder, his fingers brushing against her neck. She could feel his breath warm at the nape of her neck as he worked at the clasp. A sweet pang assaulted her lower belly as his hands made contact with her skin. She turned to face him. 

 

“Will you let me thank you properly?”  
Before he had a chance to respond she placed her hand behind his head and brought his lips to hers in a warm gentle kiss. She flung her arms around his neck and held him close, intensifying the kiss but he pulled away and smoothed her hair, regarding her intently.  
“You’re welcome, Sansa.”  
Petyr’s voice was strained and tight, his eyes saddened.  
“I miss you, Petyr.”  
“I miss you too sweetheart. Have fun with Margaery. Perhaps I will see you when you return and you can tell me all about it.”  
“Sure, that would be nice. Bye Petyr and thanks for the present. I love it.”  
Petyr stood and made his way to the door but turned, looking as though he wanted to say something further but thinking better of it before making his way out. 

Sansa sat fingering the mockingbird pendant at her chest for some time in silent contemplation. Suddenly her cell phone rang. Margaery’s number displayed and she thought about letting it go through to message bank and returning the call later until she remembered that they had plans to make for next week’s trip that they hadn’t had a chance to discuss at school.  
“Hey Margaery. What’s up?”  
“Hey Sans. I just wanted to sort out a few things for our trip.”  
“Yes sure.”  
She tried to control her voice but it sounded weary to her own ears.  
“Sansa, is everything alright? You sound strange.”  
“I’m okay. Petyr just left here.”

 

“Oh God. What did that bastard do to you this time?”  
“He didn’t do anything to me. I realised how much I miss him, even after everything that’s happened, so I kind of kissed him,” she admitted reluctantly, grimacing at the memory.  
“Oh, damn. What did he do?”  
“Nothing. What could he do? I told him I couldn’t trust him the last time I saw him and that it was over. Nothing’s changed. We both know that.”  
“I’m so sorry Sans. But maybe you’re better off without him. He’s a grown man with a wife. He’s trying to move on. Now you can too.”  
“He doesn’t love his wife, Margaery. He tolerates her. He’s so unhappy. He’s been like that his whole life. But now it’s as if he won’t allow himself to be happy. He fights it, you know.”  
“Sans, his happiness really isn’t your responsibility. You deserve to be happy too. Do you really believe that he could have made you happy?”  
“I don’t know Margaery. I do believe now that he does love me but I’m not sure that it would have been enough. It just hurts, you know?”

 

Margaery sighed. “I know it does honey. Look, do you want me to come over? Do you want a shoulder to cry on?”  
“Thanks Margaery. But I think I’d rather be by myself for a while to think things through. I hope you understand.”  
“Of course I do. I’ll let you go now and I’ll talk to you before we leave bright and early on Saturday for Highgarden. You are still coming aren’t you?”  
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it very much,” she replied more brightly.  
“Good. I think the timing couldn’t be better. It might help get your mind off things.”  
“I hope so. I’ll do my best not to be lousy company.”  
“You could never be that. You call me if you need anything or if it all gets a bit too much, okay?”  
“Thanks Margaery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked James Joyce's amazing short story "The Dead" as Sansa's homework assignment as a nod to Aidan Gillen's moonlight readings of the piece in December/January. Unfortunately I live on the wrong side of the world so didn't get the opportunity to see it - Bugger!  
> This was a short lead in chapter before "stuff" happens.


	25. Highgarden

It had been a very tiring few days for Petyr as he dealt with the fallout of his betrayal of Robert and Joffrey Baratheon. He had put out numerous raging fires to protect the market share of the bank and to reassure investors of its security and stability in the wake of the arrest of its CEO on accessory to murder charges. He’d also had the media to contend with who had swooped down like carrion birds. He was now interim CEO and responsible for coordinating the executive leadership transition all the while trying to convince detractors of the continued strength of the current board without its disgraced leader at the helm. 

While he had been waiting for this opportunity for years he suddenly felt unsure about throwing his hat in the ring for the CEO position. He thought that this is what he had been striving for all along but when he reflected upon his situation he concluded that perhaps he was more effective on the sidelines where he had always operated. There his machinations and schemes and less than savoury business dealings were under less scrutiny. Or, was it simply true that he didn’t really care that much anymore? The latter possibility unsettled him as it was completely against his nature, or what he perceived his nature to be. Surely this is what everything he had ever done had led up to; why was he doubting it now? Confused and conflicted he settled in to an armchair and sipped appreciatively at his hot strong coffee watching the mid-afternoon national news broadcast. 

“Breaking news just in. Murder suspect Joffrey Baratheon, son of Robert Baratheon who was arrested on Thursday on charges of accessory to the murder of 16 year old Kathryn Bartell, has been spotted by a member of the public in Highgarden. His whereabouts in the city are currently unknown but police have been mobilised in large numbers in an effort to locate the fugitive. The public are advised not to approach Baratheon under any circumstances as he may be armed and is considered extremely dangerous.”

“Oh my God, Sansa!” He yelled out loud. “No! No! No! This can’t be happening. Fuck!”  
Coffee sloshed from his mug as he vaulted from the chair. Petyr swiped impatiently at a stain on his shirt before grabbing his cell phone and stabbing at it urgently with his forefinger. 

“Hello Charlie. It’s Petyr Baelish. Good thanks. Listen, I need you to prepare the company jet for immediate travel to Highgarden. It is very urgent. Can you do that? Excellent. I appreciate that. I will see you soon. Thanks Charlie.”

 

He stared at the phone and briefly contemplated ringing Sansa but thought that she would either have already heard the news or if not, it would only terrify her. He would rather tell her in person and get her the hell away from Highgarden until Joffrey was caught. Petyr raced to his room, hastily changed shirts and gathered some belongings, shoving them impatiently into his travel case. He grabbed a light jacket and ran from the house slamming the door behind him before screeching down the driveway on his way to the company hangar and airstrip.

****************

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us tonight, Sansa?”   
“I’m sorry Margaery. I don’t really feel like going out tonight.”  
“Oh come on, we’re meeting some friends of Loras’s for dinner at a new restaurant that’s just opened and then going out afterwards. There’s a really good club called ‘Night Owl’ that I’ve never been to but I’d like to check it out.”  
“You and Loras go. I’ll be fine.”  
“I don’t feel right about leaving you here alone.”  
“I’ll be okay Margaery. I promise I’ll snap out of it but I don’t know, I just don’t feel up to it,” Sansa said sadly. “Are you angry with me?”  
Margaery sighed.  
“No, of course not Sans. But I don’t like seeing you like this. I want you to have fun and get out and meet some people. Promise me you’ll come when we go again later in the week?”  
“I promise I will.”  
“But hey, at least we got some great buys on the High Street today. I love that little black number you bought.”  
“Yeah. There’s some great shopping here.”

 

Sansa and Margaery had spent their first couple of days touring the city, Sansa marvelling at the beauty of the architecture, the exquisite gardens and parks and the expensive and luxurious shopping precincts. On Sunday morning as they walked through the main pedestrian mall munching and slurping on lemon gelato cones Sansa spied a young blonde man far off in the distance. Something about him seemed familiar but she could not make out his features clearly before he walked off and was lost amongst the bustle of other shoppers. As they continued their tour, she could not shake a persistent feeling of being watched. From time to time she thought she caught something out of the corner of her eye – a movement, a shadow, the wisp of an apparition – but when she turned to investigate, there was nothing there.  
Unfamiliar place, unfamiliar people and you’re a bit off kilter. It’s just your imagination. 

 

“Now you ring me if you get bored or if you need anything,” Margaery urged.  
“I will mother. Now will you stop fussing and go have fun,” replied Sansa.  
“Okay, Okay. Loras! Are you ready to go yet? I swear you spend twice as long in the bathroom as anyone I know,” Margaery yelled up the staircase.  
Loras, tall, blonde and with the perfectly toned and muscled body of a male model sauntered down the stairs, a cheeky grin dimpling his cheeks and exposing his startlingly white teeth.  
“Hey you can’t rush this,” he said, gesticulating at his body with a self-worshipping gesture.  
“Settle down there hot stuff. I gather Renly is going to be there tonight. That would explain all the preening and fussing.”  
“Maybe,” smirked Loras.  
“Come on lover boy. We better make a move.”  
“Sure you don’t want to change your mind, Sansa? My sister here can be a handful. I could use your help.”  
“I’m sure you can manage without me but thanks for asking Loras. I’ll come next time.”  
“Okay then. Enjoy yourself. There’s plenty of snacks in the fridge, heaps of movies in the DVD cabinet, tonnes of books and magazines in the library or if you want you can check out the estate gardens. They are really beautiful at this time of the year,” he suggested.  
“The gardens sound like a great idea. I might do that. You guys have fun.”  
“See you Sans.”

As the dusk approached, Sansa made her way to the back door of House Tyrell, bumping into one of the housekeepers, Dearne, who had worked for the family for many years. She was a plump, rosy cheeked older woman of friendly disposition who loved a chat.  
“Are you off somewhere Miss Sansa?”  
“Yes Dearne. I thought I would take a walk in the gardens. Loras mentioned how wonderful they are. I could use the fresh air.”  
“It’s getting a bit cold out Miss. Can I fetch your coat from your room?”  
“That’s very kind of you but I feel fine. The exercise should warm me up and I won’t be long.”  
“Alright then. I hope you have a nice walk.”  
“Thanks Dearne.”

Sansa let herself out the door and walked into the refreshingly cool late afternoon air. She was immediately struck by the intense verdancy of the grass and the explosion of floral colours that assailed her from every direction. Loras was right, the estate was spectacular as well as vast. As she strolled slowly along the winding garden path, her eyes swept this way and that taking in the beauty around her as she inhaled the intoxicating perfume from a multitude of colourful blooms. She rounded a bend and almost collided with a tall male figure standing smack in the middle of the path. She yelped and jumped back in fear.

 

“Oh, Jesus. You scared me,” she cried as she clapped her hand to her chest, breathing rapidly.  
“So sorry Miss. I was just finishing up.”  
The man was young, early twenties if she had to guess, tanned with thick dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. He wore cargo pants and a tank top covered with an unbuttoned check shirt, the long sleeves of which were rolled up to the elbows, revealing a strongly muscled chest and forearms. He had a kind face and a cheerful manner that immediately put her at ease despite the fright his sudden appearance had given her. He carried a set of hedge clippers which he placed in a wheelbarrow on top of a heap of clippings.

“My name is Sansa Stark. Sansa. You are?”  
“Harry, Miss. I mean Sansa. Harry Hardyng. I would shake hands but I’m a bit grubby,” he admitted, appearing slightly embarrassed.  
“Well you have been working very hard, clearly,” she replied kindly seeking to put him at ease.  
Sansa surveyed the box hedge that he had been tending, admiring the precision to the angles of the squared off foliage.  
“You did a beautiful job on that. Surely you don’t do all the gardening work around here? That would be a massive undertaking. The estate is huge.”  
“No, there are others. Being a Sunday they’re not here but there were a few things I needed to take care of so I’m here alone today. There is a team here during the week tending the lawns, some of the arborist work and so on. I work on the smaller vegetation, and the flowering plants and I help design the new layouts as well.”  
“You’re very good at what you do. It’s really very beautiful.”  
“So are…….. ahem. Ummm. Yeah thanks,” he mumbled. He appeared to find his own feet exceedingly interesting at that moment as his gaze remained steadfastly lowered.  
Sansa smiled and blushed lightly. 

 

Eventually Harry looked up.  
“Will you be staying long, Sansa?” he asked, trying to sound casual.  
“Until Saturday. And then it’s back to King’s Landing.”  
“Oh. King’s Landing,” he muttered, suddenly seeming to be overly conscious of his appearance. He brushed at the sleeves of his work shirt and tried to smooth his wind ruffled hair.  
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, believe me. I really like what I’ve seen here so far; things and people are more natural, more real,” she smiled encouragingly.  
He returned her smile obviously relieved and more relaxed.   
“Well I hope you enjoy your stay. Maybe I’ll see you again before you go?”  
“I hope so Harry. Bye.”  
“Bye Sansa.”

 

She could sense him staring at her back as she walked away from him and then heard the creaking of the wheelbarrow as he finally moved on.

Well he was nice. He was quite cute actually. And I think he liked me.

She thought about his eyes when they had met hers but with growing distress she realised that it was exactly the way it had been with Edward at Petyr and Lysa’s reception.

It’s not Petyr, that’s why I don’t feel anything. Why can’t I get past it? It’s just too soon, that’s all. Maybe I just need to get my toes wet. Baby steps. Maybe I’ll see if Harry is around tomorrow. Maybe once I talk to and get to know other men, bit by bit things will change.

 

Sansa sighed and continued her walk reaching the end of the path which led on to a wide thickly grassed lawn that stretched off into the distance. The sky was darkening but she was intrigued by a ring of ash trees that partially obscured what looked like a wooden rotunda and was determined to reach it before she completely lost the light. She quickened her pace and soon arrived, smiling at the beauty of the timber structure and its quiet isolation. She sat on one of the curved bench seats, closed her eyes and leaned back for some time drinking in the sounds of the birds trilling their evening songs and the chirping of crickets. She gradually began to doze off.

“Hello Sansa.”


	26. The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> This chapter does get a bit dark. So please bear this in mind if a depiction of sexual assault will cause an issue for you   
> Please don't hate me too much.

Her body froze, her eyes snapping wide open in terror.  
On the other side of the rotunda, some four yards in front of her stood a tall slim blonde figure, his arms crossed, his face sneering.  
“Joffrey,” she stammered. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”  
Her eyes darted desperately from side to side trying to discern an escape route but Joffrey blocked the only available exit.  
“Did you enjoy your ice cream this morning? I can think of something else you can lick for me if you like,” he leered.  
“Oh God. It was you. It wasn’t my imagination. You were following us,” she gasped.  
“You don’t seem very happy to see me. I, on the other hand, am very happy to see you. Maybe now we can finish where we left off.”  
On trembling legs Sansa rose unsteadily from the bench weighing up her options for flight.  
“Don’t even think about it.”   
Joffrey stepped closer, reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a large switchblade knife, snicking it open. 

 

“Joffrey please don’t do this. Please let me go,” she pleaded as a cold chill streaked down her spine.  
He laughed mirthlessly. “You’re kidding right? Look what happened the last time I let you go. I’m on the run; my father’s rotting in a cell. You ruined my life you little fucking slut.”  
He lunged at her grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back viciously to expose her throat. She screamed in pain and froze with a whimper as she felt the flat of the cold metal blade touch against the delicate skin underneath her chin.   
“Don’t worry Red. I’m not going to kill you. Not yet. Where would the fun be in that? It’s only early; we’ve got all night. I intend to make this last.”  
He let go of her hair and stepped away from her, smiling maliciously.   
“Hmm. Let’s see now. Where to start. Oh wait, I know. Take off your shirt.”  
“What?” she stammered, her voice small and trembling.  
Joffrey frowned and spoke more harshly waving the knife in her direction.  
“I think you heard me. Don’t make me say it again or I’ll come over there and cut it off you.”

 

Sansa began to cry as she pulled her t-shirt up over her head and let it fall to the ground, revealing her black lace bra.  
“Mmmm. Nice. But I don’t see my mark on you now. Shame. Maybe I’ll use something else this time. Something a bit more permanent.”   
He reached out and ran the flat of the blade along the skin of her chest just above her left breast right at the spot where he had previously bitten her. Sansa held her breath, tears streaming down her face. As he held the blade against her he moved closer and ran his finger down her sternum, between her breasts and over her stomach until he reached the waistband of her jeans. He pulled at it and brought her body against his. She whimpered as he leant in, nipped at her earlobe and hissed.  
“Take these off.”   
He shoved her backwards roughly. With trembling hands she fumbled with the button of her jeans and unzipped them, pulling them down over her hips and letting them fall at her feet. She stepped free of them. She tried to cover herself with her arms but Joffrey waved the knife again at her menacingly.  
“No, no. I want to get a good look at my new toy before I play with it.”  
Sansa let her arms drop to her sides, her body shaking with fear and the encroaching chill of the night. Joffrey circled her slowly and deliberately.

“Wow.” He exclaimed. “You really are something aren’t you? Pity you’re such a little cock tease. I’m sure your dear old uncle would agree,” he said as he came around to face her.  
Sansa felt the colour drain from her face.  
“What?” she stammered.  
“You and your uncle have been very naughty, haven’t you.”  
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied with a small voice.

 

“Don’t bother Sansa. We know all about the two of you. You see, Petyr Baelish is not the only one who can play the game. My father has been watching Littlefinger for years. When our team saw the two of you together at his house and yours it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Besides, one of the servers at his wedding reception was one of our men. He witnessed some very interesting moments between the two of you. We know what’s been going on and we know he has to be the one who sent those photographs to my father and the police. It is the only thing that makes any sense. 

 

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. I fuck every one of your holes until you bleed and scream my name and then I find that old pervert and slit his fucking throat.”  
“No,” cried Sansa. “Leave him alone.”  
“Oh, so sweet. Red loves her dear old uncle. What the fuck do you see in that creep anyway?” he sneered.  
“He’s twice the man you’ll ever be,” she spat. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being. Picking on defenceless women. You can’t even get it up, that’s how much of a man you are.”

 

As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted it but in attacking and threatening Petyr he had hit a raw nerve. She could see how infuriated Joffrey now was as his eyes narrowed to slits and he gritted his teeth. He lashed out hitting her in the face with a closed fist at full force. She fell to the ground, white static fuzzing her vision, her ears ringing as she struggled to maintain consciousness.  
“You fucking bitch. You’re going to be so sorry you said that,” he hissed.  
As her eyes slowly came back into focus, she watched as Joffrey withdrew a length of nylon cord from his jacket pocket.  
“No, Joffrey please don’t,” she sobbed as she wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.  
He placed the handle of the flick knife between his teeth, straddled her at the waist and grabbed both of her wrists, tying them together above her head and securing them to the foot of the bench seat behind her. She strained and tugged at the cord but it held her fast.

 

He removed the knife from between his teeth and waved it in Sansa’s face.  
“That’s better. You look even more edible like this. But something’s still not right. Oh I know, you’re still wearing too much. Question is, do I use my knife or do I use my teeth? Decisions, decisions.”  
As he sat on top of her she was horrified to realise that on this occasion Joffrey would be more than capable of making good on his threat to take her – she could feel him hardening against her. She squirmed underneath him.  
“I know, I know. You can’t wait to feel my cock inside you like the little slut you are. Patience.”  
As she struggled he leaned over her and tugged his fingers roughly through her hair, while edging the knife under one of her bra straps. She whined as it gave way. He moved his knife to the other strap and severed it, pulling the remains of her bra down to fully reveal her breasts. She whimpered in terror.  
“Oh my God. Beautiful. Fancy giving these to that old fart. What a fucking waste.”  
He placed the knife up on the bench and grabbed her breasts in his hands, massaging them roughly and twisting her nipples sharply, eliciting a scream from Sansa.  
“Such a pretty scream. I think I want to hear more.”

 

He moved to stretch himself fully over her and pushed his hardening cock right against her mound.  
“No, stop it, get off me!” she wailed as she threshed underneath him.  
This only seemed to inflame him more. He leered at her and continued to grope at her breasts, biting and licking down her throat and across her chest. He moved off her, his hands travelling to her upper thighs, his fingers bruising into her skin as he tried to prise her legs apart. Remembering the knife, he reached for it and held it to Sansa’s throat while his free hand reached for the fly of his jeans.   
“Open your legs bitch, and do it now.”  
It was at that moment that Sansa knew that no one was coming to save her; she would never see Petyr or her family again. She began to scream as panic and terror completely overwhelmed her.


	27. The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone bites the dust and two surprise cameos.

The cab ride from the airport had been a frustrating nightmare. Even though the driver had made every effort and broken numerous road rules in an attempt to navigate the appalling traffic as quickly as Petyr had requested, it had seemed like he had been stopped by every red light and stuck behind every bus and bicycle rider on the trip between the airport and House Tyrell. As they drove up the driveway he paid the driver double the fare and lunged from the car, hurtling towards the front door. The ring of the doorbell was answered by Dearne who knew him from previous visits to Olenna.

 

“Mr Baelish, Sir. It’s good to see you. What brings you here? You are aware that Mrs Tyrell is presently residing at King’s Landing?”   
“Hello Dearne,” he said a little impatiently. “I’m here to see my niece Sansa who I believe is staying here with Margaery. Is she here? It’s important.”  
“Miss Margaery and Master Loras went into the city. Miss Sansa decided to stay here and take a walk in the gardens.”   
A look of concern crossed the old woman’s face as she glanced around in sudden realisation. “It’s quite dark now. She does seem to have been gone rather a long time.”  
“How long?”  
“Must be over an hour by now.”  
Petyr’s stomach lurched.  
“Dearne, you need to listen to me. Call the police and do it now. Tell them the fugitive they have been looking for is here.”  
“But Mr Baelish –”  
“Just do it Dearne. Now!” he yelled as he ran past the startled woman into the mansion and through the back door to the gardens.

 

There was little lighting so while Petyr was somewhat familiar with the layout of the estate he struggled to find his way along the gravel path. Finally after endless twists and turns he reached the lawns. He could hear the faint wail of police sirens from the direction of the main road.

Where the hell is she? 

He froze in indecision slowly starting to panic until a blood curdling scream tore through the tranquillity of the night.  
“No, stop it, get off me!”

Sansa! No!

He ran desperately towards the sound as more frenzied screams assailed his ears. Suddenly the screaming stopped. His heart skipped a beat as he realised the possible implications. As he neared the rotunda he could make out movement through a gap in the trees. He darted through the trees and flew up the stairs of the rotunda screeching to a halt as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

 

Sansa lay almost completely naked on the floor, her wrists bound with cord, her form completely still. Joffrey lay on top of her, one hand around her throat while he grabbed at her panties with his free hand, attempting to yank them down her thighs. Petyr roared with rage and lunged at him, tearing him from her and throwing him bodily to the ground. Joffrey grunted in shock but recovered sufficiently to retrieve the knife from the floor where he had discarded it while his hands had been otherwise occupied. He sprang to his feet and swiped the knife in a wide arc in front of him. Petyr’s reaction as he jumped backwards was not quite fast enough. As the blade caught him across the chest he clutched at the wound with a grunt. While his adversary was momentarily distracted Joffrey charged at him, knocking him forcefully to the ground, winding him and pinning him down. 

 

Petyr stared wide-eyed as Joffrey’s arm held the knife aloft and prepared to stab downwards. He grabbed at Joffrey’s wrist in desperation to halt its descent but could feel his strength starting to wane, the knife gradually inching closer and closer to his throat. Time seemed to stop as neither man gave quarter. Suddenly Petyr heard a deafening explosive crack as a hot wetness splashed across his face and throat. Joffrey’s body slumped and fell to face him, his eyes wide and unblinking, the knife clattering to the floor. His temple was a mess of splintered bone, blood and shiny grey matter. Wiping Joffrey’s blood from his eyes, Petyr sat upright and briefly registered the presence of two police officers with firearms in hand before turning to Sansa.

“No!” he cried as he crawled over to her and gently shook her.  
“Sansa, sweetheart. Please wake up. Please don’t be dead. Why won’t you open your eyes? Please come back.”  
He desperately stroked at her face and her hair before placing his fingers at her throat to check for a pulse.  
“Oh thank God.” Her pulse was weak and thready but detectable, her chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly.   
“Call an ambulance,” he yelled desperately over his shoulder.  
“They’re already on their way,” replied one of the officers, an astoundingly tall strongly built woman with short blonde hair and piercingly blue eyes. She slowly walked towards him.  
“You need to move away from her, sir,” she added firmly.   
The woman had her firearm trained right at him. 

 

Acting upon impulse, Petyr reached for the knife to free Sansa’s wrists from their constraint. The female police officer reacted immediately.   
“Don’t move,” she yelled as her stance became more rigid and threatening.  
The woman’s partner, a man with incredibly intense eyes and a truly impressive red beard had now also aimed his firearm directly at Petyr. The man did not speak but his penetrating stare said it all.  
“It’s alright. My name is Petyr Baelish. This is Sansa Stark; she is my niece.”  
“I must insist that you move away from her immediately, Mr Baelish. I will assist her.”  
Petyr tore himself away reluctantly and grimaced at the angry red chafe marks left on Sansa’s wrists by the cord as the woman severed it. He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to the woman who covered Sansa with it. She groaned and stirred, opening her eyes weakly.   
“Petyr?” she croaked before coughing and choking with the effort.

 

“Please officer. Please let me be with her.”  
She eyed him warily but nodded, allowing Petyr to approach. He knelt and took one of Sansa’s hands in his.  
“Sansa, I’m here. Everything is going to be okay. It’s over.”  
She stared fixedly at his chest her brow furrowed.   
“You’re hurt. You’re bleeding.” She reached out weakly to touch him with her other hand. He grabbed it and pressed her fingers to his lips.  
“It’s nothing. It’s a scratch. Try to relax. Help is coming.”  
“I’m alright Petyr, now that you’re here and I know that you’re safe.”   
She smiled wanly before closing her eyes, her head lolling to the side as exhaustion claimed her.


	28. Aftermath

“Welcome back sleepy head.” Petyr held one of her hands in his.  
“Petyr? Where am I?”  
“You’re in the hospital. You’re going to be fine. They’ve checked you over and apart from scrapes and bruises, you’re physically okay. They just want to keep you in overnight for observation, just as a precaution.”  
“Joffrey?” she stammered.  
“He’s dead Sansa,” he replied gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”  
“Did you kill him Petyr?”  
“No, he was shot by the police. But God help me, I wanted to.”  
“Me too. He threatened to hurt you.”  
She bit her lip and a tear trickled from the corner of her eye. He reached out and cradled the side of her face with his spare hand.   
“Sansa, I thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what I would have done if….”   
He took a deep shaking breath and looked away.  
“I was so scared I would never see you again, Petyr. Please don’t leave me,” she pleaded.  
“I’m not going anywhere. Oh well, that’s not exactly true. There is a very formidable looking matron who may well escort me bodily from the premises once visiting hours are up, but until then, I’m all yours.”

 

“Will you take me home when they discharge me? I don’t want to be in Highgarden anymore. I just want to go home.”  
“The police will want to interview you tomorrow when you’re up to it. Afterwards you can go back to Margaery’s or stay with me in my hotel room – your choice. We’ll fly home in the company jet the following day.”  
“I want to stay with you.”  
“I’m glad you said that,” he smiled stroking her hair.  
“I’m going to have to be careful what I tell the police, Petyr. They can’t know about Joffrey’s previous attack on me. It will open up a whole can of worms.”  
“You’re right but don’t worry they have no reason to suspect that anything prior happened between the two of you. And for my part, I will tell them that I was in Highgarden on business and came to visit you and found you missing. I’ll explain that I had heard that Joffrey was in the area and had Dearne contact the police as a precaution because both you and Margaery were known to him from school and he could try to make contact.”  
Sansa smiled weakly at him.  
“You never stop thinking do you Petyr?”  
“The day I stop thinking is the day I know that I’ve gone to meet the Gods,” he replied.

 

“Does my mother know what happened?”   
“Yes, I rang her as soon as I could. I didn’t want her to find out from media sources. She wanted to hop straight on a plane but I convinced her to stay put and that I would bring you to her safe and sound soon. I told her the same story I will tell the police.”  
“Do Margaery and Loras know?”  
“Yes, I rang them too. Loras is back at the estate keeping an eye on things – the coroner and the forensics team are there at the moment processing the scene. Margaery is waiting outside. Do you want me to send her in?”  
“Yes please, but before you do, I need to tell you something. Something Joffrey said.”  
“Go on,” he said steadily.  
“Joffrey and his father. They were having you watched Petyr. Robert Baratheon knows about us and he knows you were the one who sent the pictures to the police.”

 

Sansa waited for some sort of alarmed response from Petyr but he seemed eerily calm. Eventually he spoke.  
“I was hoping to spare you any more dramatic news that might upset you, but I need to tell you something now.”  
“What? What is it?”  
“Robert Baratheon is dead, Sansa.”  
“What, how!?” she exclaimed.  
“They found him in his cell. He hung himself with his own bedclothes.”  
She gasped, her jaw dropping. “That’s just awful. Oh God.”  
He squeezed her hand.   
“Don’t feel sorry for him. He did some terrible things over the years. Perhaps it was a mercy. He would not have fared well in jail. He made himself a lot of enemies.”  
Sansa did not reply but squeezed his hand back.   
“Can you please let Margaery in now?”  
“Of course. I’ll be just outside.”   
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before exiting the room, holding the door open for Margaery.

 

“Hi Margaery.”  
“Sans. This is starting to become a habit.”  
The older girl moved to the side of the bed, leaning down to deposit an overnight bag on the floor before embracing Sansa and kissing her on the cheek.   
“I’m so glad you’re alright. I was so scared when Petyr rang us and told us what had happened. How could we just leave you there on your own? How could we just go out and have fun while…” Margaery dissolved into tears.  
“Don’t Margaery. It’s not your fault. It was Joffrey’s but he’s gone. It’s over. Don’t cry.”  
“Look at you. What you’ve been through,” she sniffled, “and you’re comforting me.”  
“I’ll be okay. Really,” she said reassuringly while swiftly changing subjects.   
“So you and Petyr are on a first name basis now,” she smiled.  
“Yes. I was so wrong about him Sans. I realise that now. If you could have seen how he was when he spoke about you. When he explained how still and unmoving you were and that he thought you were gone, he choked up. I can’t handle it when grown men cry and that started me up and then we realised how crazy we must both look so we started laughing. He hugged me and cheered me up and he was so lovely Sansa. I can understand now how you feel about him. That man loves you – I have absolutely no doubt about that anymore.”

 

As she listened to Margaery she could feel her own eyes brimming with tears.  
“Oh no. Don’t you start. This will go on all night.”  
Sansa wiped at her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just that he’s normally so guarded. He rarely lets anyone see that side of him.”  
“It’s because he loves you so much. He can’t hide it anymore, Sans.”  
“That scares me Margaery. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t know what he wants to do.”  
“But things have changed now after this, surely.”  
“He’s still going to have the same worry he’s always had – that he’s too old for me, that he is not enough for me and he will hurt me and we will hurt the ones around us. I don’t think that is ever going to change,” she said sadly.  
“He’ll hurt you worse by leaving you. You have to make him see that.”  
“I’ve told him how much he means to me but I think he doubts it, you know. Deep down he doesn’t really think he deserves to be loved and he fights so hard against it. He always has. All of his life.”  
“I know it’s not easy but you have to fight even harder. One day he’ll really hear you. I know he will.”

 

Sansa sighed, “There’s still my Aunt and my mother and the rest of the family to consider. And the fall out if it were to become public knowledge.”  
“Yeah. That’s the hard one. I don’t know what to tell you there. But I am sure you and Petyr together could find a way.”  
“Thanks Margaery. I hope you’re right. And I hope you won’t be offended but I really want to stay with Petyr tomorrow when they let me out and once I’ve had my interview with the police. We’re flying out the next day. I’m really sorry but I can’t be here at the moment.”  
“I’m disappointed of course. But I completely understand. If it was me I wouldn’t want to be here either. And you need to be with him. I get it.”  
“You’re a really good friend. The best,” said Sansa earnestly, squeezing Margaery’s hand.  
“Right back at you kiddo.”


	29. The News That Travels Fast

“That was so hard, Petyr. I’m so tired,” Sansa sighed, staring absently out of the hotel window. Petyr had booked an executive suite at his favourite hotel. The view from their room was spectacular but Sansa was clearly not in a state to fully appreciate it.   
“I know honey. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I know that lying doesn’t come easily to you so dealing with the police so soon after everything you’ve just been through must have been really tough. If I could have been there and spoken for you, I would have.”  
Sansa reached for Petyr’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
“I know you would. And what about you?” she asked. “How did your interview go?”  
“It was fine. Stuck to the story. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about there. But did you ever really doubt it? You said it yourself. I am a consummate liar,” he said somewhat ruefully.  
“You know it gives me no joy to think of you in that way Petyr.”   
“I hope to never give you another reason to have to,” he responded.

 

“How can you be here with me with everything that must be going down at your work?”  
“Don’t worry about my work. I’m not. I’ve left the place in the capable hands of Varys, one of my colleagues. I’m sure he’s equal to the task and relishing his moment in the sun.”  
Petyr smirked to himself, envisaging Varys in his element. They had a complicated relationship and he was a pain in the backside in so many ways but Varys’s dedication to the company was indisputable and he was the only one Petyr would entrust it to in his absence.  
Sansa turned to face him.  
“I’m so happy that I’m here with you. I thought I would never be with you again.”  
“Me too sweetheart.” 

 

Petyr wrapped his arms around her and embraced her gently. She pulled from him and regarded him seriously, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.  
“Does Aunt Lysa know what happened to me?”  
“Yes. She does. I rang her right after I spoke to your mother.”  
“Does she know you’re here with me now?”  
“No, I couldn’t tell her that. It would arouse her suspicion. I told her that you were at the Tyrell’s and that I was organising to fly you back in the company jet and delivering you straight to your mother in the morning.”  
“You’re making me sound like an express parcel delivery,” she joked.  
Petyr chuckled. “I am aren’t I? But a very precious delivery.”  
“To my mother. Or to you?” she asked softly.  
“Both,” he replied, smoothing her hair. 

“You look so tired Sansa. Maybe you should take a nap.”  
“But I don’t want to waste any of the time we have left together.”  
“I know you don’t but just for a little while. If you are a bit refreshed you might enjoy yourself more later on.”  
“Why, what did you have in mind,” she purred suggestively.  
Petyr chuckled. “Not that. We’ll get some dinner. We can order room service or there’s a restaurant downstairs, but maybe you’re not up to it.”  
Sansa squeaked excitedly.  
“Can we go out? Please Petyr. I want to go out with you, like a date. We’ve never been on a date,” she pleaded.  
Petyr regarded her with an amused and warm expression.  
“That’s very sweet. But if we’re going to do that you definitely need to get some rest.”  
“Are you going to join me?” she asked timidly.  
“Sansa,” he sighed. “No. It’s not a good idea. Besides while I don’t have to physically be at work I do have to check some emails and make a few calls while I’m here.”

 

Sansa pouted and trudged through to the main bedroom flinging herself on to the bed with a huff and curling up to face the wall. Petyr chuckled quietly and left her. He sat himself at a large desk in a corner of the suite flipping open his laptop with a sigh. He went to check on her some ten minutes later and was gratified to see that she was fast asleep.

************

Later that evening they sat in the hotel restaurant appreciating the night time skyline of Highgarden and the light melodic tinkling of music wafting across from the adjacent piano bar. Their conversation had been far ranging and filled with the same light hearted banter that had characterised their previous interactions and that Petyr had missed so much.   
“So, on a scale of 1 to 10?” Petyr asked, waggling one eyebrow at her suggestively.  
“What are you talking about, Petyr?” she giggled as she tucked into a huge bowl of Spaghetti Vongole.   
“On a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rate…… the meal at this establishment?”  
She laughed out loud.   
“That’s not where I thought you were going. Now if it was what I originally had in my head then definitively a 10. This meal? Meh, a 7, maybe. But now if it was served off your chest, then a very strong 8.”  
“And if it was served off my –”  
“Petyr!” she squealed, slapping his arm.  
He laughed and squeezed her hand, relieved to see her seemingly back to her old self. But he could not dispel a persistent feeling of disquiet that she had seemed to bounce back too quickly. Was it normal to be this resilient? She’d been through so much. 

 

Suddenly Petyr’s cell phone began to ring, shattering the glamour that had woven around them.  
“Oh damn it. It’s your Aunt Lysa,” he said checking the call display before answering.  
“Hello dear,” he replied smoothly. “How are you?”  
“What’s wrong?” he muttered immediately.  
“What?” Petyr’s face paled, his eyes darting from side to side in distress. He looked up at Sansa but quickly averted his gaze.  
“How?” His voice was broken and raw.  
Petyr ran his hand through his hair and took a deep shaking breath before replying.  
“Okay…. Okay, yes. Of course…. We’ll be there in the morning. I’m so sorry Lysa.”  
Petyr terminated the call and stared at the phone for a moment before looking up to meet Sansa’s gaze, his eyes a maelstrom of emotion.  
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”  
“Sansa. We need to go back to our room.”  
“Petyr tell me, you’re scaring me.”  
“I don’t mean to but we just need to get out of here. Come on.”   
He threw a generous number of banknotes on the table and grabbed her hand, walking her out of the restaurant and to the elevator. 

 

They rode the elevator with two other hotel guests in silence, Petyr staring fixedly at his feet, Sansa fidgeting with her hair and biting her bottom lip nervously. As Petyr shut the door to their room, she grabbed his arm and frowned at him.  
“Will you please tell me what’s going on? You look really upset. What did she say to you? Does she know I’m staying with you? Is she causing problems? God, is she threatening you again?”  
“No. It’s not that. Sansa, please come and sit down.”  
He pulled her towards the couch and sat her down next to him embracing her and pulling her head against his chest. His chin rested lightly on her head.   
“Sansa. I need you to listen to me but first I need you to know everything is going to be okay.”  
“Petyr please just tell me what’s going on.” 

 

“It’s your mother, sweetheart. Your mother is gone,” he stammered with some effort.  
She pulled away to stare at him, her eyes wide and unblinking.  
“Gone. What do you mean… gone?” she said, her voice trembling.  
“She has passed away, Sansa. I’m so incredibly sorry.” He caressed her cheek and stroked her hair.  
“No, you’re lying. She can’t be. She was perfectly fine when I left her,” Sansa cried.  
“It was very sudden sweetheart. She had a massive stroke. They tried to revive her but the damage to the brain was too severe. There was nothing they could do,” he rasped, desperately trying to stay strong for her sake.  
Sansa had begun to cry, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her grief.  
“No, no, no. It’s not fair,” she sobbed. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye, just like with Dad. All she wanted to do was spend my birthday with me but I was selfish and I came to Highgarden instead and now I’ll never see her again,” she wailed as she completely lost control of her emotions, crying hysterically and struggling for breath.  
Petyr hugged her tight and squeezed his eyes shut trying to process the loss of a woman who had once meant the world to him. But he was more concerned with the mental state of the girl who was coming apart in his arms than his own grief.  
Is this what finally breaks her? How much can one person take? 

They sat like that for a long time, Sansa crying fitfully, Petyr rubbing small comforting circles on her back until ever so gradually she began to still.  
“What am I going to do now, without her,” she stammered eventually, sniffling and swiping roughly at the tears on her face.  
“Try not to think about that now, Sansa. You know I’m here for you and your family too.”  
“This is my fault.”  
“What do you mean? How could it possibly be your fault?” he asked gently.  
“I didn’t help her enough. She was always so tired and stressed after Dad. I should have done more. All I did was make her worry about me. And now this thing with Joffrey. I did this. I killed her.”  
“Oh Sansa,” he said sadly, cradling her face in his hands and staring earnestly into her eyes. “You cannot blame yourself. You did not do this. No one did this. Strokes can happen out of the blue to people even much younger than your mother. You were a wonderful daughter to her. And she loved you more than you will ever know. She was so proud of you. She wanted you to be happy like any mother would. She worked and she fought for her family because they meant more to her than anything.”

 

Sansa stared at him, tears still streaking down her cheeks.  
“Arya. What about Arya? She’s all alone.”  
“Lysa is at your house right now with her. Robb and Talisa are on their way from Winterfell and they will take her in for a while after the…after the funeral. Lysa offered to take her but she wanted to go with Robb. Needless to say Jon can’t take her to live at the military base. Jon’s just waiting for his leave to be approved and then he’ll be on his way to your house too.”  
“Robb has always been Arya’s favourite since she was a little toddler. And she loves her little nephew Ed. She’ll sit for hours and play with his little fingers and toes and tickle his tummy and giggle when he laughs.”   
Sansa smiled tremulously as she evoked the image in her mind. Petyr smiled back at her and stroked his fingers slowly through her hair.  
“What’s going to happen to me?”  
“Let’s not talk too much about that now. But try not to worry. There’s no rush to decide. You will be 18 in a couple of days and legally an adult so ultimately it will be your decision. I’ll help you any way I can.”

 

“Oh Petyr. I’m so sorry,” she gasped as she suddenly flung her arms around him, squeezing him tight.  
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”   
“I didn’t stop to think about how you must be feeling. You loved my mother once very much. I know you still cared for her as a friend,” she cried.  
He hugged her back fiercely, touched to the core that she would stop to consider his pain in the midst of her own devastating loss. He brought a thumb to her cheeks, brushing lightly at her tears.  
“Sweetheart. Sssh. I don’t want you to upset yourself over me. I’m going to miss your mother very much. She was a very special woman. But my priority right now is you. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”  
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too,” she sniffled.  
“You’re not going to lose me. I promise you.”

After sitting together in silence for some time, Sansa moved from his embrace and walked over to the window, staring absently out at the night lights of the city, hugging herself and shivering lightly. Petyr walked up behind her and wove his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.  
“You must be exhausted and it’s very late. Why don’t you get some proper rest now? We have to leave early in the morning.”  
She turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression pleading.  
“Petyr. Please be with me. Please make love to me. I need you.”  
“Sansa –”  
“Please Petyr,” she begged as she ran her hand through the hair at his temples. “I need to feel you touching me, kissing me. I need you inside me. Please.”

 

“Sansa I can’t. Now is not the right time. You need-”  
“I need you,” she interrupted. In her desperation she played her final gambit. “If you loved me you would be with me.”  
It took everything within him to deny her.  
“It is precisely because I do love you that I can’t do what you’re asking me to do. You’re upset, you feel alone, you need comfort. And I can help you with those things. I can be here for you. But making love to you right now is not what you need. It wouldn’t be good for either of us right now.”  
“You don’t want me,” she sulked.  
“I do want you, of course I do,” he whispered gently. “But not now. Not like this.”  
“Then when?”  
“I don’t know Sansa,” he sighed.   
“Please don’t leave me on my own. I’m scared.”  
Petyr glanced towards the second bed suite and back at Sansa torn by doubt. Finally he relented.  
“Alright. Of course. I’ll stay with you. But you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep.”  
“I will. I just need your arms around me. I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”


	30. Reconnecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you hate reading it but you're just going to have to put up with a chapter of SMUT. Sorry, not sorry :)

A little later Sansa stood at the bathroom mirror brushing through her hair, having changed into a white mid-thigh length silk chemise. Petyr was in the bedroom changing into a light pair of summer sleep pants, his chest bare. He usually wore trunks or boxers to bed but he did not think it would be the best idea to be semi naked in bed with her, especially as her choice of nightwear did little to cover her body. He also did not want the injury he had sustained while tussling with Joffrey to upset her. She had not asked him about it which was contrary to her caring nature, so it was likely that in her confusion upon waking up after the attack, she had now forgotten all about it. He picked up his tank top but before he could pull it on, Sansa entered the room. Her mouth formed a small O as she gasped and pointed at the large bandage adorning the front of his chest.  
“Petyr! What’s that?” she exclaimed as she strode quickly towards him.

 

“It’s nothing,” he replied lightly. “Just a scrape from when Joffrey and I fought.”  
“That’s not nothing Petyr. Look at the size of that dressing! Tell me the truth.”  
“Alright. It’s a bit more than a scratch. It’s mostly superficial but the middle of the wound was deeper and needed stitches. Another beautiful scar to add to the growing collection,” he japed, trying to lighten the mood.  
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as she stroked the skin of his chest just above the bandage. “Does it hurt?”  
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with concern. She was so close to him now that he could feel the heat emanating from her body, smell the intoxicating scent of her skin. Her plump lips were slightly parted and only inches away from his, her sweet breath wisping over him, as she continued to stroke his chest with her fingers. As he looked down at her hand he spied the swell of her creamy breasts and the peaks of her rose nipples through the thin fabric of her chemise.  
She’s so beautiful. Oh God.  
“A little, not much,” he breathed, as he felt a twitch at his crotch.  
“I still haven’t thanked you properly for saving my life.” 

 

She stared at him before leaning in and touching her lips to his in the merest wisp of contact. His breathing hitched as her hands travelled to the back of his head and slowly brought his face in for a deeper more passionate kiss, her soft breasts pushing gently into his chest, the apex of her thighs pressing against his cock which twitched again in response. Hating himself for his weakness he moaned desperately as he felt the last of his resolve crumbling under her warm, soft assault. His hands travelled down her shoulder blades and her back sliding over the globes of her bottom, rounded and smooth under the silk of the chemise. He realised with a start that she was wearing no underwear and froze but Sansa continued to writhe against him. He moved his hands under the chemise to squeeze and massage her buttocks while crushing her to him, eliciting a deep intake of breath from Sansa as she broke from the kiss and moved away from him slightly.  
“We should stop now,” he rasped.  
In reply, she grabbed at her chemise and pulled it up over her head, tossing it to the floor, her eyes never leaving his. She reached over and grabbed at the waistband of his pants and tugged them down to land at his feet. Her eyes raked his form and smouldered as they came to rest on his erection.

Petyr stroked his hand over Sansa’s cheek and neck then trailed his fingers down her shoulder and arm. She stepped closer and placed her hand over his heart. He placed his hands under her thighs lifting her, her legs wrapping around his waist. They kissed passionately while Petyr walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Sansa straddled him, her legs folded under her either side of his thighs.  
“I want to look into your eyes and I want it to go on for a long, long time,” she said huskily.  
He stroked her hair and gazed seriously at her searching for any slight sign of hesitation. He saw nothing but desire and longing.

Petyr nuzzled her neck with his nose and licked downwards until he reached her collarbone. He kissed down to her nipple and swirled it with his tongue, eliciting a moan from Sansa who started to rock against him. She could feel his cock hardening underneath her as it rubbed against her sex and the wetness from her that slicked them both. Petyr continued to lick and nibble at both of her breasts in turn until, finally ready, he lifted her and gently slid her down his shaft, pushing in gradually until he was fully seated inside her. 

 

“Ahhh. Petyr!” Sansa gasped.  
She had never felt so completely filled by him before. He moved his lips to one of her breasts and used his hands on her hips to help guide her. After a while she found that she could vary the length and tempo of his thrusts with the movements of her thighs and hips and she soon found a steady languid rhythm that was building her ever so slowly but inexorably to her climax. 

She grabbed at the hair at his temples and brought his face up to hers, parting his lips with her tongue, probing his mouth and wrestling with his tongue hungrily. Petyr flicked and teased at her nipples with his fingers and massaged her breasts while returning her kiss with equal fervour. They broke the kiss, panting and moaning as they both began to reach their release. Sansa moved herself ever more desperately and quickly above him searching for more, building and building. Petyr reached with his hand and finding her nub, circled it with his thumb, gradually increasing the pressure. Suddenly he bent his legs, planted his feet on the bed and began to thrust up, delving deeply into her. Crying out his name, Sansa went over the edge, completely overwhelmed by the most all-consuming sweet throbbing pleasure she had ever felt as wave after wave coursed through her whole body. She suddenly felt Petyr flip her on to her back, as he pushed into her again and again, prolonging and intensifying the sensations in her cramping, fluttering sex. 

 

“Oh my God! Too much. Too much,” she sobbed as it went on and on, feeling as though it would tear her body apart.  
Petyr continued to push his member hot and thrumming inside her until he finally tensed, groaned loudly and spilt his warm wet seed inside her. He stayed inside moving gently while she clenched her thighs together and squeezed against him, eking out every last cramping throb of pleasure. Eventually he rolled over so she lay on top of him, her cheek resting against his chest, his heart drumming loudly in her ear.  
Such was the depth of her feeling for this man in this moment that she wept, clinging tightly to him. He stroked his fingers down her back and through her now dishevelled hair. Eventually she lifted her face to gaze at him.  
“I love you so much, Petyr.”  
“I love you too. God, I’ve missed you.”  
She stretched up to kiss him tenderly scraping his scalp at the temples with her fingernails.

 

Sansa rolled from him and came to rest on her back with a sigh, closing her eyes in contentment. Before she knew it she could feel Petyr kissing and nibbling down the sensitive skin of her throat and down her chest. He stopped to suckle on one breast, one hand toying with the nipple of the other breast while his free hand slid down her body to her thigh.  
“Oh Jesus. What are you doing?” she moaned.  
“Round two.”  
“You’re going to destroy me,” she whined.  
“You started it,” he teased.  
Petyr’s hand stroked the skin of her inner thigh, brushing upwards closer and closer to her sex. She squirmed and moaned as the tips of his fingers ever so lightly skimmed over her folds. She was already slick with her own juices and the remnants of his cum, so his fingers slid smoothly across her, her skin feeling hot and molten, her tender flesh swollen. She felt his mouth leave her breast and his weight shift as he moved himself downwards. Pushing her legs further apart, he separated her folds with forefinger and thumb and firmly licked between them with his tongue. Her whole body tensed as she cried out with the intensity of the sensation; she was still so sensitive from her last orgasm. He continued to work his tongue hungrily between her folds, thrusting in and out, then covered her with his mouth sucking and licking greedily at her. He grabbed underneath her, grasping her buttocks and pressing her sex upwards and even more firmly to his mouth. He avoided her clit bringing her agonisingly close to completion but denying her release.

Sansa was mewling loudly now and digging her fingernails into his shoulders as the tension began to become unbearable.  
“Petyr please, I need to….”  
Leaving one hand to support her, he used his spare hand to finally circle her clit while still licking and sucking at her sex. She cried out and grabbed fitfully at his hair. Suddenly just before she reached her climax, he flipped her on to her stomach and raised her up until she was on all fours. She squeaked in surprise and consternation at the loss of sensation and then turned her head around to stare at him. Kneeling behind her and holding on to her hip with one hand, he grasped his cock in the other, pumped it a few times and slid into her. She gasped loudly as he grabbed her hips and began rocking and thrusting into her with increasing speed and vigour. This was an entirely new experience for her - a feeling of complete vulnerability and abandonment. He reached down and found her clit again, circling it firmly while he pushed into her relentlessly. This new position allowed him to reach spots where he had not touched before. Eventually the angle and depths of his thrusts found a particularly sensitive and responsive spot.  
“Harder, Petyr. More,” she cried desperately.

He immediately responded by pushing into her with everything he had, their naked flesh smacking together loudly with every thrust. Sansa screamed out in ecstasy, her body trembling and quaking in painful all-consuming pleasure. Petyr held her tight around the waist and continued his thrusts until he found his own release with a long loud moan, his head resting on the small of Sansa’s back in exhaustion as she shook underneath him. They collapsed together on the bed, slicked in perspiration and still breathing hard. Petyr grabbed at Sansa and hugged her close, kissing her eyelids and her cheeks while she played with the hair of his chest.  
“I never knew it could be like this,” she whispered eventually.  
“It’s never been like this for me before,” he replied sincerely.  
“But you must have had lots of women.”  
“None of them was you.”  
She smiled and snuggled into him.  
“I never want this night to end. I could be happy here like this for the rest of my life.”  
He sighed. “If only.”

**********************

Later that night Petyr was awoken by loud whimpers and moans from Sansa who started to struggle feebly in his arms. Her face was wet with tears and contorted with pain and grief.  
“Sansa honey. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”  
He shook her gently until she woke with a start. She started to sob as she recalled the details of her dream.  
“Oh Petyr,” she cried, “It was terrible. He was there on top of me and you didn’t get there in time. And when he was finished he stabbed you in the heart, right in front of me. And then my mother was there and Joffrey killed her too.”  
“It’s alright. It was just a nightmare. You’re with me now. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you again.”  
He reached over to stroke her cheek but she flinched away from him with a sharp gasp. She looked at him confused and mortified.  
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
Petyr regarded her with concern, afraid that she was starting to shut down. His worst fears for her were coming to fruition.

 

What have you done you fucking selfish prick, he admonished himself angrily. He struggled to keep the ire out of his voice.  
“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. How you reacted was completely natural. I shouldn’t have, we shouldn’t have… It was too soon.”  
“But I wanted to. And I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

He stroked her hair softly. He fought himself internally for some moments and then said what needed to be said; what was right.  
“Sansa. You’ve been through so much. I know how strong you are so I know you will come through this. But you need as little complication in your life as you can get right now. Tonight was wonderful, more than wonderful. But we have to step away from each other. At least for now.”  
“Please don’t leave me again Petyr. I couldn’t take it,” she cried as she flung her arms around his neck in desperation.  
“I’m not leaving you, my love. I’m still going to be there for you, day or night, anything you need, anytime. But not like this. We need to let things settle down. You need time to heal. Do you understand?” he asked gently.  
“Yes,” she sniffled, as a tear trailed down her cheek. “But it hurts to be away from you Petyr.”  
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.  
“It does for me too.”

 

After a little while he disentangled himself from her and stroked her hair.  
“Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”  
“I’ll try. Are you staying with me?”  
“If you want me to. But no more shenanigans. As you have seen by now, where you are concerned I am a terrible, weak man. Promise me you’ll behave.”  
She nodded and gave him a small smile, curling into him, her nose and mouth pushed into the hairs of his chest. Petyr lay for some time listening to her breathing as it gradually slowed and she fell into a deep and restful sleep.


	31. Remembrance

It was a wet and dreary afternoon, mirroring Sansa’s mood as she greeted the guests arriving at the house for her mother’s wake. The service and burial had been devastatingly sad for all in attendance, her only comforts being the presence of Petyr on one side of her and Robb, Jon and Arya on the other. She had wept uncontrollably when she had first seen Robb and Jon; she hadn’t seen them in over a year and she hadn’t realised how much she missed them. They were so tall and strong as they hugged her and comforted her in her grief that she had trouble letting them go. It was a blessing to have all of her family at the house as she had suffered from recurring nightmares since Joffrey’s attack; she could not have dealt with being alone in a big empty house. Even Arya had put aside her usual contrariness and had been there for her, despite being in the throes of her own grief. The young girl was more subdued than Sansa had ever seen her at the wake but as always her natural resilience was in evidence as she ably assisted with greeting their guests and attending to their food and drink needs. She had always loved Arya but for the first time in a long time Sansa was proud of her little sister. 

 

Wherever Sansa went that day, whoever she spoke to in the chapel and the cemetery and now at the wake, she could feel Petyr looking over her, his eyes filled with concern. She had not spoken to him in the last week about their relationship although there had been plenty of opportunities for them to find time alone as he had visited the house numerous times to assist the family as much as he could. She was relieved to note that while the rest of her life was in disarray, she would face no fiscal pressures and everyone had agreed that she would continue to reside at the King’s Landing house so she could finish her schooling; Arya would live with Robb at the Stark ancestral home in Winterfell for the foreseeable future. Her mother’s estate was impressive and even split four ways between the siblings, they would all be independently wealthy once everything was settled. There had also been a considerable sum of money set aside for Lysa but she had indicated that she would decline the bequest and return the money to her sister’s children. She was a lot of things, but it would appear that greedy was not one of them. Despite this unexpected largesse, Lysa continued to treat Sansa with cold suspicion and barely disguised jealousy despite the fact that Petyr maintained his distance from her. 

 

While Petyr was warm and supportive during their meetings he gave no outward sign of wishing to resume their relationship. His approach to her had been nothing but paternal and even at times professional when they spoke of pecuniary matters related to her mother’s will. She had resigned herself to the fact that a reconciliation between them may never happen. Perhaps Petyr had found the perfect pretext to extricate himself from a very complicated situation; perhaps this tragedy had given him the out he needed. As always, with him she just could not be sure of his motivations. She had to admit that she had barely enough energy to get through each day so she had not yet challenged him on it. Perhaps he had been right. Maybe it was for the best. As much as she loved him and wanted to be with him she simply did not have the strength to contend with the constant emotional push and pull that seemed to characterise their interactions. She needed time to rebuild herself. Now the funeral was over, her mother was gone, she had said goodbye and she would have to find her own way in life alone. At least for now.

 

As the guests milled around the food and drink tables conversing amongst themselves, Petyr approached her, his brow furrowed with worry.  
“It was a beautiful service Sansa.”  
“Yes it was. I’m so happy we could do that for her. Thank you for helping us to organise it, and Aunt Lysa too.”  
“We were happy to help. I wish you had let us hire the catering though. I know you wanted to do the food prep but you look so tired. It must have been a big job for so many guests.”  
“It was. I’m pooped. But it helped me take my mind off things for a little while. Besides Talisa and Aunt Lysa did help, and Arya too if you can call scoffing all the brownies helping.”

 

Just then Robb arrived with his wife Talisa and baby Ed in tow, Lysa following close behind.   
“How are you doing Sansa? Can we help with anything?” asked Talisa.  
“No thanks Talisa, it’s all pretty much under control,” she replied as she tickled Ed’s foot.   
She grinned as the cherub scrunched up his chubby cheeked face, curled his little toes and squealed with laughter.  
“Babies should be compulsory at all wakes,” declared Petyr as he smiled fondly down at Ed.  
Sansa’s heart melted a bit as this was yet another softer side to him that she had not seen before.   
Did he want a child of his own?   
Sansa looked up at Lysa. A strange flick of emotion traversed Lysa’s face as she watched Petyr’s reaction to the child.

 

Robb turned to Petyr and extended his hand.  
“Thank you Uncle for being here for Sansa and for helping with everything, you too Aunt Lysa. It makes it easier knowing she has someone nearby to rely on, seeing as we live so far away.”  
Jon approached and clapped Petyr on the shoulder and gave Lysa a quick peck on the cheek.  
“The same goes for me. Sansa is very lucky to have the two of you watching over her. I want so much to be here myself and it kills me that I can’t but being in the military makes it impossible. The cost of doing one’s duty, I’m afraid.”  
Sansa regarded him warmly. They had always had a rather fractious relationship growing up so his words touched her.  
“Sansa is my family now. You all are. I would do anything for you. We both would,” Petyr replied.  
Petyr smiled at Sansa; Lysa smiled too but somewhat less sincerely and remained silent.

 

“Will you excuse me for a moment, the Tyrell’s have just arrived.”  
Sansa moved towards Margaery, Loras and Olenna, who hugged her in turn, murmuring their condolences. After a while Loras and Olenna walked away to talk to the rest of her family leaving Margaery with her.  
“Sansa, how are you holding up? You look done in.”  
“I’m okay Margaery but I’ll be glad when this is all over.”  
“I can imagine, but I hope you’re up for an extra visitor. There’s someone outside who is waiting to pay his respects. I think he’s a bit timid to come in because he wasn’t invited.”  
“Who is it Margaery?”  
“It’s Harry Hardyng, one of our groundkeepers. Apparently you met him in our garden?”

 

Sansa was shocked that he would remember her let alone come all this way to see her.  
“Harry? But we barely know each other. We only spoke briefly the one time.”  
“You must have made quite a first impression then. But that’s my Sans,” she nudged her with her elbow.  
“Did he come with you?”  
“No, we ran into him outside just now. He only heard about what happened with Joffrey on his next workday and then when he eventually found out that you had lost your Mom too he scraped together the fare and made his way here. We offered to reimburse his expenses but he refused. He had trouble getting an economy class flight on short notice so he couldn’t make it to the service or he would have been there.”  
“I can’t believe he would do that for me.”  
“I think he’s a bit sweet on you,” she smirked. “Do you want me to bring him in?”  
“Yes, yes, would you? Thank you.”

 

Margaery left through the front door reappearing moments later with a nervous and fidgeting Harry who gazed at Sansa with obvious concern. He wore a smart black suit but looked completely out of sorts, tugging on the bottom hem of his jacket anxiously. He held a small parcel in one hand. Margaery winked at Sansa before moving off to join Loras and her grandmother who were conversing with her family.  
“Hi Sansa,” he said in a small soft voice. “I hope you don’t mind me coming here like this. I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened to you and about your mother. I wanted to come and make sure you were alright. If there’s anything I can do for you, just ask.”  
Sansa touched his arm lightly and stretched up to kiss his cheek. As she did so she noticed Petyr watching their exchange, his expression indecipherable.  
“Thank you. You’re so sweet. You really didn’t have to come all this way. But I’m very happy to see you.”

 

Harry smiled a little uncertainly and stretched out his hand offering her the parcel.  
“I have something for you. It’s not much, but I thought you might like it.”  
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”  
“I wanted to. Go on, open it.”  
Sansa tore at the edge of the wrapping with a smile revealing an oak photo frame. The photo in the frame was clearly taken in the gardens of House Tyrell, near to the spot where Harry and Sansa had encountered each other. In a cleared area of the grounds stood a young sapling. She looked up at him confused.   
“It’s a remembrance tree. I planted an oak tree for your mother. I can send you pictures as it grows or maybe you can come by sometime and check it out in person. You know, if you want to.”  
Sansa covered her mouth with her hand and felt the tears welling in her eyes. As she contemplated the depth of his consideration of her she began to cry.

 

“Oh God. Sansa. Don’t cry,” he pleaded. “The last thing I wanted to do was make you sad.”  
She flung her arms around him and hugged him to her. He returned her embrace a little awkwardly.  
“You haven’t made me sad. This is the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she sniffled.   
She looked up at him and stretched up on her toes to kiss him quickly on the lips. Harry stared at her a bit stunned.   
“Thank you Harry. I don’t know what else to say.”  
She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled.

 

“You’re welcome. Sansa, I’d like to stay a little longer but I have to go now. The only flight back I could get leaves in a couple of hours.”  
“Oh please won’t you stay? I’ve got rooms here and we can organise another flight back tomorrow.”  
“I don’t know. I –”  
“Please don’t go. I might not get to see you again for a while. I would really like you to stay,” she pleaded.  
His face relaxed into a grin.   
“Okay. I’d love to. Thanks. I just need to make a phone call to my folks and let them know what’s going on. I’m a grown man but they still worry about me,” he said rolling his eyes skyward.  
“You’re lucky to have them,” she replied sadly.  
“Oh Sansa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”  
“I know you didn’t. Don’t apologise. You make your phone call and I’ll catch up with you after.

As Harry walked outside to make his call, Sansa regarded the picture of her mother’s living tribute. She touched against the glass of the frame and smiled as she pictured what the tree would look like 10 years from now, 20 years from now, 100 years from now. The tree would live long after everyone in this room had joined her mother, including herself. What an incredible gift he had given her. Suddenly she registered Petyr’s presence next to her.  
“Are you alright, Sansa?”  
“Yes, Petyr. I’m fine.”  
“Margaery tells me that your young friend Harry Hardyng travelled all the way here just to see you. He must care for you a great deal,” he said, staring at her intently.  
“I hardly know him. We met briefly in the grounds of the estate when I went for my walk. I’m surprised he even remembers me.”  
“I’m not,” he muttered.

“Petyr look what he did for me,” she said ignoring his comment and showing him the photo. “It’s an oak tree. He planted it for Mom.”  
Petyr reached out and touched the picture and regarded her with an inscrutable look.  
“He did that for you?”  
“Yes. I can’t believe how sweet he is. How thoughtful,” she smiled.  
“Where is he now?”  
“Outside. He had to make a phone call but he’ll be back shortly. I’ve asked him to stay tonight. It was either that or he has to get straight back on a plane and go home. He’s come all this way, spent all his money on the air fare and I just really want to spend some time with him before he goes back.”  
Petyr was silent for a moment before replying.  
“Good. You need friends around you Sansa. I’m happy that he has been able to put a smile on your face. Young men like that are rare in this day and age.”

“Hi again Petyr,” gushed Margaery as she neared, nudging his arm and regarding him fondly.  
He leant in to peck her cheek. “Margaery dear, are you following me? People will start to talk,” he smirked.   
She giggled.   
“Will you ladies excuse me there’s someone I need to catch up with.”  
“Sure Petyr, go ahead,” replied Sansa, watching him as he exited the room via the front door.  
“Oh God, I think he’s gone to talk to Harry,” stammered Sansa.  
“Do you think he’s jealous?” Margaery asked in a hushed voice.  
“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s not really entitled to be jealous though is he? I still don’t know if we will ever be together. He hasn’t given the slightest indication. He shouldn’t involve himself in my life if he has no intention of ever being with me. Crap. I wonder what they’re talking about.”  
“Look, he’s probably just looking out for you and checking him out. If it doesn’t end up working out with Petyr would you be interested in Harry?”  
“I don’t know Margaery. I still love Petyr. Harry is a lovely guy but he’s not Petyr.”  
“Well don’t count him out. You never know. Perhaps in time your feelings could change.”   
The two young women continued to converse until Margaery interrupted.  
“Oh. Wait, here comes Harry now. I’m going to make myself scarce but let me know what happens, okay Sans?”  
“Count on it.”

“Hi Harry. Is everything okay at home,” Sansa enquired.  
“Yep. Everything’s good.”  
Sansa couldn’t help but notice that Harry seemed a bit pensive and distant.  
“I bumped into your Uncle outside,” he offered eventually.  
“Oh did you?” She tried to sound surprised.  
“He’s a cool guy. He thanked me for coming and for the tree and he… well, this is a bit overwhelming actually.”  
“Harry,” she murmured, “what did he say to you exactly?”  
She dreaded to hear his answer.  
“Well, first up he insisted on paying for a first class ticket for me back to Highgarden tomorrow. Then we had a bit of a conversation about what I do for a living and what I would like to do in the future. He asked me if I would like to gain qualifications. I told him I would but the courses are so expensive. Sansa, he’s offered to pay for my tuition to study horticulture and landscaping here at the university. He’s also offered to let me stay for free in one of his rental properties and to give me a part time job as a server in his restaurant for some income. I’m completely blown away!”

Sansa was stunned. 

Why would he do that? He doesn’t even know Harry. And why would he want to keep him here? 

“Wow. He must really like you. I know he is generous but that’s huge even for him. Do you think you’ll accept?”  
“I don’t know Sansa. It doesn’t feel right. I’m not someone who is comfortable with other people paying my way, although of course, I would pay every cent back as soon as possible. I could always set up a gardening run and do that in my spare time for extra cash too, I suppose,” he mused.  
“My mother said to me not so long ago that accepting help is not a weakness and she was right. I think you should really consider it. It’s a great opportunity.”  
“And if I stayed, would you… you know. Would you like to see me again because I know I would like to see you?” he asked awkwardly.  
Sansa blushed slightly. “Yes. I would like that,” she replied shyly.   
“Harry, I have to do some rounds now of the other guests. Will you be okay? I’ll catch up with you later on and sort out your room for the night.”  
“Of course. Go ahead.”

Sansa spoke with a number of the other guests, exchanging stories and memories of her mother with them. She noticed that Harry had struck up an animated and friendly conversation with Robb and Jon and was pleased that he seemed to be getting on so well with her brothers. When she saw her opportunity, she cornered Petyr who had stopped to graze at some grapes on one of the food tables.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.  
“Eating grapes, dear,” he replied nonchalantly.  
“Don’t be cute Petyr. I’m talking about Harry. Why did you offer to pay for his study and offer him a job? You don’t even know him.”  
“I know enough about him to know that he is deserving of my help. He is quite impressive: sensitive, very intelligent and obviously hard-working. And it would appear he is your friend. You need your friends right now.”  
“I know all that but I still don’t get it. Why do you want to keep him here?”  
“He doesn’t have access to the right opportunities and schooling where he is. He can get that here. And with the added bonus that you get to spend more time with him.”  
“Why would you want that?”  
“Like I said you need your friends around you.”

 

“There’s more to it than that. I know you well enough to know that you never do anything without a reason.”  
“I told you my reason, Sansa.”  
“I don’t believe you. But that’s not even the point. I don’t like you interfering in my life. Whether or not I see Harry is up to me. You don’t get to choose my friends.”  
“I’m not interfering. I’m trying to help.”  
“There’s only one way you can help me and you know what it is,” she blurted before she could stop herself.  
Petyr looked at her with a pained expression for a moment but it quickly passed.  
“You know I care for you,” he said softly. “But you also know where things stand currently. We can’t be together right now. I can’t do this dance with you anymore Sansa,” he said firmly.  
“Fine. If that’s how you want it then that’s what you get,” she hissed.   
As she moved away to speak with a group of her guests, she could feel Petyr’s eyes boring into her back.


	32. New Friendship

A little after 7pm, the last of the guests had departed, including her brothers and sister who had left for the airport to catch their respective flights. Jon was on compassionate leave from the army but was required back at base that night. Robb had offered to take Sansa in along with Arya but she had her schooling to think of. She was already so far behind in classes because of everything that had gone on that she had no idea how she was going to catch up.

 

“Your Aunt and I will make a move now Sansa. Will you be alright?”  
“Yes thank you Uncle Petyr. I have Harry to keep me company,” she replied, shooting Petyr a dazzling smile.  
She noticed that Aunt Lysa was battling a huge grin at the thought of Harry staying; Petyr’s face was a blank mask.  
“You call us if you need anything Sansa dear,” she offered oleaginously.  
“Thank you Aunt Lysa. Good night,” she said before kissing her quickly on the cheek.  
“Good night Uncle,” she said before leaning in to peck him on the cheek also.  
“Good night Sansa dear. Don’t forget to try and get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” he said pointedly.  
“I’ll try but I’ve got my second wind now. I’ll probably be up all night at this rate,” she smiled sweetly.  
Petyr shot her a tight smile in return, his eyes glinting and narrowed before he and Lysa turned from her and headed out the front door.

 

Eventually Harry made his way down the staircase from the guest room. Sansa had given him a set of clothes that Jon kept at the house in case he ever visited. Both men were roughly the same height and build so the sweat pants and t-shirt moulded to his body perfectly. She noticed how tanned he was, the broadness of his chest and how developed the muscles of his shoulders and biceps were from his intensive labour in the gardens of Margaery’s estate. His hair was slightly mussed and damp from his recent shower. She had also changed from her formal funeral blacks to tight faded jeans and a red t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He smiled as he approached her.  
“Is the room okay, Harry? Do you need any more pillows or blankets?”  
“No I’m good. It looks nice and cosy actually. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay Sansa. I really appreciate it.”  
“Not at all Harry. It’s great to have you. To be honest, it would have been very lonely here on my own although I’m sure that Uncle Petyr and Aunt Lysa would have stayed if I had asked.”  
He smiled at her sympathetically.  
“I’ve cleared everything away so we can just sit and relax. Would you like a little wine?” she offered.  
“Umm. Sure. I don’t drink much really but yeah. A little bit wouldn’t hurt.”  
She moved to the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. Harry must have noticed that the rather large glasses were almost full but didn’t make any comment, taking one of the glasses when she offered it to him.

She led him into the lounge room and flicked on the table lamp, before turning to regard him.  
“Would you like some music or should I put a film on?”  
“I’m happy to do whatever you like,” he replied.  
“How about I put on the Hurd Hatfield version of “The Picture of Dorian Gray”? I love that film and I’m a sucker for George Sander’s voice.”  
Harry smiled at her.  
“I’ve learned something new about you.”  
“What?” enquired Sansa  
“You like old films and voices do it for you.”  
Sansa blushed but not at his words. At that moment all she could hear in her head was the soft lilt of Petyr’s voice.  
“Um. Maybe. Amongst other things,” she responded, hoping that her tone sounded more jovial than her thoughts.  
“Okay, let’s watch that then. Sounds good.”

 

Sansa queued up the DVD and settled into the couch, patting the seat next to her indicating for him to sit by her. He looked at her a little uncertainly at first but then complied.  
“To new friendships,” Sansa announced, clinking her glass against his.  
“To new friendships,” he repeated.  
As they leant back Sansa sipped at her wine, feeling its warm numbing effects almost immediately, due no doubt to her fatigue and the fact that she had eaten virtually nothing all day despite the mountain of food she’d been surrounded by. As they watched the start of the film in silence she found herself leaning in closer to Harry until they were almost touching.

“So have you thought further about my Uncle’s offer?” she asked after a time.  
“Yes, I have but it’s a difficult decision. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me and for him to throw out this lifeline to me is just amazing and well, scary. I don’t know, I’m a bit conflicted.”  
“He really likes you and he wants to see you do well.”  
Harry fell silent for a moment.  
“Do you like me Sansa?”  
Sansa sat up and stared at him then tentatively moved her hand to the top of his knee tracing circles with her forefinger.  
“Yes, I do,” she whispered.  
He reached behind her head to release her hair from its ponytail, then stroked gently through her tresses. He then moved his hand up to the back of her head and brought her closer to him, gazing at her intently before kissing her gently on the lips. She felt a small thrill in her belly: a spark of pleasure but it lacked the depth of intensity that she felt when Petyr kissed her. While she could not ignore the comparison something within her still yearned for his touch. She leant in and kissed him more forcefully and as his lips parted in response, her tongue invaded his mouth, probing and wrestling with his.

 

He crushed her to him and began to return the kiss with increasing fervour, both hands now massaging against her shoulder blades pressing her breasts against his broad chest. His mouth left hers to kiss down her neck, concentrating on a spot right near the junction with her shoulder.  
Sansa let out a little whimper and slid her hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing him gently.  
“Oh God,” he moaned loudly, his hot breath wisping against the skin of her neck.  
She took the opportunity to remove her t-shirt revealing a black lace bra as he stared at her, and reached out to touch her bared shoulder, almost reverentially.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed as he leant in to kiss down her sternum and across to the bared skin of one breast.  
He reached behind her and stopped to look her in the eyes seeking permission before unclasping her bra and slipping it off to fully expose her breasts. He gently massaged one breast with his fingers, brushing his thumb lightly over the nipple. He continued to watch her as she closed her eyes and began to pant, her pleasure beginning to build. His mouth moved to her other breast and licked over the already hardened nipple there. He swirled his tongue around it before taking her breast into his mouth, sucking at it forcefully. Sansa could feel a wetness between her legs as a familiar sweet keening sensation began in her belly. She whimpered. 

Harry’s mouth left her breast and he looked up at her momentarily.  
“Sansa? Do you want me to stop? Are you alright?”  
Clearly he was concerned for her welfare after everything she had been through but all she could think of at this moment was his mouth on her, his hands touching her and what was still to come.  
“No. I mean yes, please don’t stop,” she panted.  
He fumbled with the button and zip of her jeans then when she lifted her hips in assistance, he pulled them down over her legs and feet, throwing them to the floor, leaving her panties on. He wrestled off his t-shirt and sweat pants, his member straining against the fabric of his trunks. Sansa could tell that he was big, bigger than Petyr and swallowed nervously as she lay back contemplating him inside her. He settled in on top of her, taking most of his weight on his forearms, kissing her neck while rocking against her, rubbing his cock against the fabric of her panties at her entrance. He stopped momentarily to look at her in concern.  
“I didn’t bring any condoms. I didn’t know this was going to happen.”  
“Neither did I. Surprised?”  
“Completely.”  
“Don’t worry I’m on the pill and I had a check up recently. I’m clean.”  
“Me too. I mean not on the pill but I’m clean,” he laughed a little nervously.

 

He moved his body slightly to the side and suckled on one breast while his hand moved down between her legs to brush against her sex, feeling the wetness that had now seeped through her panties. He slipped them down and gently parted her legs, slicking his fingers along her folds, eliciting small cries from Sansa. She gasped and froze as she felt his forefinger move into her, gliding across her walls. He stopped, thinking he had hurt or frightened her but she started to move her hips against his hand, increasing the friction and depth of his finger’s penetration. He inserted another finger and curled them both to find a sensitive spot, massaging and rubbing while he used his other hand to circle her sensitive nub. Sansa moved against his hands more and more desperately feeling the pulsating cramps of her pleasure growing until finally she climaxed with a sharp cry. As she savoured the throbbing waves that coursed through her body, Harry removed his fingers from inside her but continued to massage her tenderly between her folds and circled her clit gently, trying to prolong her pleasure as long as possible. After some time she stilled, her breathing returning to normal. He leant in to kiss her.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Yes, yes. I want more. Please, I want more Harry,” she whispered.

He lifted her up in this strong arms and deposited her on the floor so that their movements would not be inhibited by the confines of the couch. She breathed heavily as she watched him slip off his trunks. His member was fully erect and bigger than she had imagined. He must have registered her apprehension because he looked down at her his brow furrowed in concern.  
“Are you sure?”  
“I’m sure. I want you,” she replied.  
He lowered himself on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms, his member slicking along her folds as he moved against her. He kissed and nibbled at her breasts while he continued his movements; Sansa began to moan softly and wrapped her legs around his waist opening herself to him, her body trembling as her pleasure began to build again. She felt the tip of his cock right at her entrance and held her breath waiting for him to enter her. She gasped as he felt him push part way into her – she felt stretched and there was discomfort as her muscles adjusted but it was not as bad as she had anticipated. As he felt her relax slightly he continued to push further in; Sansa cried out as he thrust more forcefully and his full length entered her. 

“God, you are so tight. Are you alright?”

Biting at her bottom lip she nodded and pushed her hips against him in encouragement.  
He began to thrust into her slowly at first but gradually building the momentum, changing his position and the angle and depth of his thrusts until he could feel Sansa responding with the movement of her hips and her short sharp gasps. The delicious friction and the feeling of fullness inside her moved her ever closer to the edge. Suddenly with a loud cry she found her release, her body wracked by sweet cramping waves of pleasure. Harry followed soon after with a long low groan and a stiffening of his whole body as he flooded her with his seed. He withdrew from her and lay on his back breathing heavily for some moments then leaned over to kiss her and stroke stray strands of hair from her face. 

They lay like that for some time, neither speaking as they luxuriated in the last echoes of their pleasure. As the warmth began to leave her skin she shivered at the coolness of the room.  
“Come on Sansa. We should get up. You’re getting cold.”  
He stood and extended his hand to her, hauling her from the floor and bringing her face to face with him.  
He stroked her face and looked deep into her eyes.  
“I love you Sansa.”  
“What?” replied Sansa tremulously.  
“I said, I love you.”  
“Harry I –”  
“Sansa, I don’t expect you to say it back. But I needed you to know that this wasn’t just some quick roll in the hay for me. I care deeply for you. From the first time I laid eyes on you.”

 

“You can’t love me Harry. You don’t even really know me.”  
“I know all that I need to know.”  
“I, I,” she stammered.  
“It’s alright Sansa I don’t expect you to feel the same way. It’s too soon. You’ve been through so much and it will take time. I will wait. But if you don’t want me at all then please tell me and I’ll go. I don’t expect anything from you.”  
“No, Harry. I care about you. I’m just confused right now. It’s all a bit too much. I’m sorry. I’m such a mess,” she murmured.  
“You have nothing to apologise for. If anything I should apologise to you. I shouldn’t have let this go so far. You’re still trying to cope with everything that’s happened.”  
Sansa touched her hand to Harry’s face.  
“Hey, you didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do,” she reassured him.  
“You are an amazingly strong woman and you should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”  
“You are so sweet.” She reached up to kiss him gently on the lips.

He wiped at a stray tear that had trailed down her cheek and then frowned in concern.  
“Sansa. I think you really need to get some rest. You must be exhausted after today.”  
“I am. It’s partly your fault you know.”  
He grinned. “Yes, sorry about that. No wait. No I’m not.”  
She smiled wanly. “I’ll just sit with you a little longer and then I’ll make my way upstairs,”  
Picking up their clothes from the ground, they re-dressed and tumbled on to the couch, Sansa’s head lolling on Harry’s shoulder, his arm around her.  
“Sansa?”  
“Yes Harry.”  
“I’ve decided that I am going to take your Uncle up on his offer.”  
“I’m glad,” she replied, “It really is too good an opportunity to pass up.”  
“That’s not the only reason I’m doing it.”  
She stared at him. “You’re not doing this to be with me?”  
“I wouldn’t be doing it at all if you weren’t part of the equation.”  
“Harry I don’t know how to feel about that. You shouldn’t turn your life upside down for me.”  
“I don’t want you to worry about me. You need to focus on yourself. I get the feeling you’re not very good at doing that.”  
“I have been accused of that in the past, it’s true,” she mused.  
“Let’s not overthink this and analyse every little thing that could go wrong. Let’s just go for it and see where it takes us.”  
“That sounds dangerous, Harry.”  
“What’s life without a little bit of danger,” he replied, stroking his hand though her hair. 

 

Sansa awoke with a start momentarily confused by her surroundings. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness around her she realised that she was in her bedroom, she was still dressed and that some hours had passed. She must have fallen asleep downstairs and Harry had carried her up to bed and tucked her in before retiring to his own bed in the guest room. She rolled on to her side with a sigh. For the first time she began to contemplate the complexity of her situation.

She had not intended to initiate the sexual encounter with Harry. But she had been very touched by the depths of his emotion and his solicitousness towards her with regard to her mother. He had been so kind to her and she had felt so isolated in her grief, even with her friends and family around her. It was difficult to comprehend how this man who she hardly knew had managed to have such a profound effect on her in such a short time. She had never met someone so prepared to lay everything on the line, someone so willing to get hurt in pursuit of something that may never come to pass. He was the type of man who lived for the moment; Harry was spontaneous and acted with passion. 

At one time she would have considered him the very antithesis of Petyr. Her initial impression was that Petyr did not take unnecessary risks and he did not allow himself to get hurt. Everything underwent an exhaustive cost benefit analysis. Everything he did was planned, every move was strategized; his plans stretched not over days or months, but years. But slowly she had come to the realisation that her assessment of Petyr had been entirely wrong. When he was alone with her, it was his abandonment, his preparedness to be hurt by her, his loss of control and his passion that let her spy his true self and the potential for love that he had locked deep inside of him. 

When he touched her, when he whispered her name in the throes of passion and held her tight after their lovemaking there was a profound and abiding sense of shared intimacy that was missing in her encounter with Harry. The younger man had brought her pleasure with his strong, youthful virility but it felt empty and hollow compared to the intensity, the warmth and complete fulfilment she felt when she was with Petyr. She did not love Harry. And, she realised with growing disquiet, she probably never would love him or any other man the way she loved Petyr.  
What am I going to do? It’s not fair on Harry. Do I end it now before it goes too far or am I being rash? Maybe I just need to give it more time. I don’t know. I’m so confused.  
She sighed deeply and closed her eyes knowing that despite her exhaustion sleep would not come easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me too much for this chapter :(


	33. A Gentlemen's Agreement

Petyr sat at his desk in his office poring over annual reports when he heard a knock on the door. It was his PA, Ros.   
“Yes Ros, what is it?”  
“There’s a Mr Hardyng here to see you Mr Baelish.  
“Oh, yes. Please send him in.”  
Petyr rose from his chair and walked towards the door extending his hand to Harry as he entered. He could not fail but notice Ros appraising Harry’s buttocks with gleaming eyes. Ros’s face reddened and she flustered as Petyr quirked one eyebrow at her before closing the door.  
“It is good to see you Harry. I had thought you would be on your way to Highgarden by now.”  
“Hi Mr Baelish. Good to see you too. I decided to catch a later flight so I would have time to see you before I go.”  
“Please take a seat.”  
Petyr gestured to a corner of his office furnished with four comfortable leather armchairs, a coffee table and a coffee machine on a table adjacent.   
“Can I offer you a coffee?  
“Yes please.”  
“How do you take it?”  
“Just strong and black would be perfect.”  
“A man after my own heart,” Petyr said as he prepared and poured two cups handing one to Harry. 

 

“Now what can I do for you? I take it that it is about my offer?”  
“Yes Sir.”  
“Please Harry, you don’t need to be so formal with me. You can call me Petyr.”  
“Oh sure. Petyr. I am very grateful to you. You’re very generous and after some thought I’ve decided to take you up on it, if it is still available.”  
Petyr smiled. “Of course it is Harry. Excellent. I’m very pleased. Now you need to enrol of course and term won’t start for some time. Have you given any thought as to when you might like to move here.”  
“I don’t want to leech off you any longer than necessary Mr…I mean Petyr, so -”  
“Nonsense Harry you would hardly be doing that. I can see you are a hardworking man and you would not have it in you to “leech” off anybody. You must move here whenever you are ready. Once you have made your arrangements in Highgarden please contact me so I can organise your accommodations and send me all your paperwork ahead of time so that I can put you on the books at the restaurant.”  
“Thank you Petyr. I’ll send you the paperwork as soon as I get home. I will pay you back everything I owe, I swear it. But I don’t know how I am ever going to repay your kindness.”  
“There is only one repayment I want from you Harry.”  
“Name it.”  
“Sansa. She is very precious to me. Look after her. Be there for her. If she is ever in any sort of trouble then I want to know about it. Can you do that Harry?” he asked earnestly.   
“You don’t even have to ask,” he replied sincerely. 

 

Harry was silent for some time and looked a little uncomfortable.  
“Petyr I have to be completely honest with you.”  
“I doubt it is in your nature to be otherwise,” smoothed Petyr.  
Harry hesitated before taking a deep breath and continuing.   
“I love Sansa.”  
Petyr sat bolt upright his eyes widening slightly before regaining his composure.  
“You don’t waste any time Harry, I give you that. How can you be so sure you love her? You have only just met.”  
“I knew it the first time I laid eyes on her.”  
Petyr looked at him wistfully. “Yes, she tends to have that effect on men. She is a beauty Harry but –”  
“It’s not just that. Her beauty goes so much deeper. I just hope that I get to see her when all this sadness is no longer holding her back. She would be amazing in full flight.”  
“Why would you not be here to see it Harry?”  
“This is why I have to tell you the truth. I have told her I love her but she hasn’t said that she loves me.” 

 

Petyr struggled to contain a sigh of relief, then castigated himself.  
“Well she hasn’t said it yet in any case. She’s been through so much. I need to give her time. I don’t even know if it is going to work out. Even if it doesn’t I will still care about her. If it goes pear shaped will you still want me around? Does any of this change your mind about making me the offer?”  
“As long as you don’t hurt her Harry, you’ll have my continued support. Even if this relationship doesn’t develop as you would like it to I would hope that you could still be there for each other as friends. As long as that is the case I will stand behind my offer. Her happiness is the most important thing to me.”  
“Of course, if she wants me here, I’ll be here for her. There is no question.”   
Petyr leaned in and stared intently into Harry’s eyes.  
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. But, if you hurt her I will end you. Do you understand?”  
Harry swallowed hard, “Yes Sir….Petyr.”  
“Good, let’s shake on it Harry,” said Petyr, shooting the younger man a winning smile.

 

Once Harry had left his office Petyr slumped with a sigh into his work chair.   
What the fuck am I doing?  
It had all started when he had noticed the exchange between Sansa and Harry at Cat’s wake. Sansa had greeted the very young, strapping and indisputably handsome Harry with a great deal of affection. When he had seen the look of warmth in her eyes as she regarded him and had seen her smiles, her tears, the hug and their kiss he had felt an almost physical pain in his chest. In that moment he had known he was completely unequal to the task of loving Sansa in the way that she deserved to be loved. He had brought her nothing but pain and anguish in his selfish pursuit of her. Due to him she had lost some of that youthful innocence that he loved so much about her. And yet, here was this young man who did not even know her who could make her feel something other than misery in the depth of her grief; someone who had committed an incredibly compassionate act for her in the name of her mother. If he had lived to be a hundred Petyr knew he could never have conceived of a gift so special and significant that it would have brought Sansa equal joy.

 

What must be done was really very simple. He had to let her go. Completely. He had to conquer his desires and sever the bonds of her dependence on him once and for all. That was the only way she would be happy because she could never be truly happy with him. There would always be the veneer of sadness dampening her spirit that Harry had clearly detected but had assumed was solely due to Joffrey’s assault on her and the passing of her mother. But he knew that he was also heavily responsible for her malaise and this was something that he could not forgive himself for. When he first saw Harry and Sansa together there was a lightness and youthfulness and rightness about their interaction that he perceived was missing from his relationship with Sansa. This is what she deserved and this is what she would have. 

 

There was clearly an attraction there, especially on Harry’s side. He would design to throw them together and perhaps they would develop even stronger feelings for each other and in time he would become nothing but a distant memory to her. After all, he could not hope to compete with the younger man – physically and emotionally Harry was superior on all counts. He had only to see Ros’s reaction to the young man to know what he was up against. He was not oblivious to the fact that while it was unrequited, Ros had been attracted to him since the first day he employed her but it had been as though he was not even present when Harry had arrived. Harry could not but prevail in any contest for female attention. It would not be easy to let Sansa go; it would be the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life. But he would do it for her because he loved her.

 

That had been the plan. However, now the full reality of his scheme to thrust them together was starting to hit home. While he knew that Harry clearly had strong feelings for Sansa he had not expected that the young man would have been captivated by her so precipitously. He admonished himself as he remembered that that was exactly the way he had reacted to her himself. He should have anticipated it. Petyr struggled to come to terms with the suddenness and the intensity of it. He had thought he would have time to adjust; day by day he would gradually learn to accept that they could not be together and grow accustomed to seeing Sansa with another man. The best he could hope for was the sharp pain of her loss transforming into a dull ache with time. But everything was moving way too quickly. 

 

When he conceived his plan he had steeled himself to bury any hint of jealousy that threatened to boil to the surface so he was dismayed with his reaction to Harry’s news that Sansa did not yet reciprocate his feelings. He had been indescribably relieved. 

Maybe she still loves me. 

The thought had come unbidden to him. He shook his head in anger at his own weakness and foolishness. 

No. I saw the way she looked at him. Of course she hasn’t told him she loves him yet. Her life is a mess right now. She’s not going to jump right into a new relationship at the drop of a hat. She’s confused and scared and who could blame her. 

He needed to see her soon but would give her a little time to recover from recent events. A definitive line needed to be drawn in the sand for both of their sakes.


	34. A Scheme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fair warning going in that this chapter comes somewhat out of left field but I don't care and I'm not apologising :). Wanted this scene to happen for a bit of fun.

Sansa sat at the dining table rifling through her Advanced Trigonometry textbook, desperately cramming for an upcoming test. It had been a few days since Harry’s departure and while she thought about him from time to time, her most persistent reflections were on Petyr. No matter how hard she tried she could not exile him from her mind, even though she knew that he no longer wanted to be with her. By contriving to keep Harry in King’s Landing he was effectively handing her over to him. That he would so completely cast her off in the midst of her grief and loneliness wounded her deeply and angered her beyond words. It was clear that he no longer loved her. That he would approach Harry behind her back and concoct this scheme to rid himself of her was proof of that. For him she had clearly become a bad investment that he needed to divest himself of.

 

She was torn from her reveries by the chiming of the doorbell. She dragged herself glumly to the door and opened it to reveal Margaery, wine bottle in hand.  
“Surprise!” she yelled.  
“Margaery, it’s so great to see you,” exclaimed Sansa, hugging her enthusiastically. “Come in.”  
Sansa led her to the kitchen to open and pour the wine, handing her a glass.  
“Egészségedre,” stammered Sansa clinking her glass against Margaery’s.  
“What?” Margaery replied.  
Oh, nothing. Never mind,” she muttered miserably.  
Margaery took Sansa’s glass from her and placed it on the kitchen bench alongside her own, hugging Sansa to her.  
“Sans. Honey. What’s wrong?”  
“Oh Margaery. I don’t know what to do anymore,” she sighed.  
“Come on Sans, let’s sit in the lounge. Talk to me.”

 

Margaery pulled Sansa down next to her on the couch and stroked through her hair.  
“I’m sorry. It seems like all I do at the moment is cry on your shoulder.”  
“Sansa you’ve been through so much. What you’re feeling is only natural. If you weren’t a mess I’d be more concerned.”  
“I’ve made such a hash of things Margaery.”  
“What do you mean?  
“Harry,” she sniffled.  
“What about Harry? He seems like a really nice guy. It’s great that Petyr is going to be helping him out although my Grandmother is a bit miffed with him at the moment for luring Harry away. She’s going to miss his work around the estate.”  
“Yeah, really great of Petyr,” Sansa snarled sarcastically.

 

“What do you mean by that?”  
“He planned all this Margaery. He doesn’t love me anymore, he doesn’t want me and he has schemed to keep me and Harry together. That way he can remove himself from a relationship he doesn’t want and feel great about himself that he did something noble for someone else,” she stated petulantly.  
“Sans I don’t think that’s true. He does love you. I’ve seen the way his eyes light up when he’s around you and the way he talks about you. I wish that I had somebody that felt like that about me,” she added wistfully.  
“If he truly loved me there is no way he could just hand me over to another man. He would fight for me and find a way for us to be together.”  
“Maybe he thinks you’ve been through enough and he’s just thinking about your welfare.”  
“If that were true he would have ended it with me long ago. Why did he have to make me fall in love with him?” 

 

“Oh Sans,” murmured Margaery as she hugged Sansa to her.  
“But you were going to say something about Harry?”  
“I messed up big time Margaery.”  
“Why? What happened? You guys seemed to be getting on so well. He obviously really likes you. Or is that the problem? Did he try something?”  
“No, he didn’t. I did. Margaery, I slept with him.”  
“What?!” Margaery exclaimed. “How, when did that happen?”  
“He was so lovely to me – you know – he came all that way to see me and he planted an oak tree for my mother. You have no idea how grateful I was to him and so touched. It was a beautiful thing to do. When everyone left the wake I felt so alone and so miserable but he was there and he made me feel like there was a way out.”  
“I feel like he really shouldn’t have gone there Sans. After what you’d just been through it wasn’t the right time or place,” she said sternly.

 

“He didn’t do anything to initiate it Margaery. It was all me. I wanted him. I needed him to touch me. And he was very sweet and caring. If anything I took advantage of him.”  
“How did you feel afterwards.”  
“I felt empty Margaery. Oh don’t get me wrong, he was amazing and it was great sex but it just wasn’t the same as…..” Sansa sniffled as a tear trickled from her eye.  
“Petyr has ruined me for other men. No one is ever going to measure up to him. That’s another reason I’m so bloody angry with him. He’s put me in an impossible situation where Harry is going to end up getting hurt and it will be my fault.”  
“Sans, it was one time. Harry might get a little hurt but I’m sure eventually he’ll get over it.”

 

“He told me he loves me,” Sansa replied reluctantly.  
Margaery exhaled noisily.  
“Wow. I knew he was interested but I had no idea he had fallen so hard so fast.”  
“You see now what a predicament I’m in?”  
“Yeah, I get it Sans. It seems pretty tricky but it’s really very simple.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Do you still love Petyr?”  
“Of course I do, more fool me,” she admitted.  
“Then it’s like I said before. You have to fight for him. Fight for the both of you. He’s not as strong as you are Sans. I know you don’t believe that right now but it’s true. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for you. All that stuff with your Mom, it damaged him. You have to make him understand how special he is to you. And if you don’t want to be with Harry you have to be honest with him even if it hurts him. It’s better now than later when he is even more heavily invested in you.”  
Sansa shook her head adamantly.  
“I agree with you about Harry and I will speak to him. But I can’t agree with you about Petyr. If he really loved me; if he really wanted to be with me he would make it happen. I’ve told him so many times what he means to me. I’ve shown him so many times. I don’t know what else I can do.”  
“Maybe it needs to come from somebody else,” said Margaery cryptically before swiftly changing subjects.

 

*******************

That evening Petyr sat at his kitchen island bench sipping his favourite Costa Rican coffee blend and reading the newspaper. He scanned the main article in the financial section: “Baelish to Head Embattled Kingsgate International Corporation.”  
He had after some careful consideration decided to compete for the CEO position and had gained almost unanimous support from the board of directors sans the indomitable Varys and a couple of his cronies. 

 

Oh Varys, Varys. Bless the man. True to type until the very end; always a thorn in his side; the ultimate smiling assassin. Varys reminded him very much of himself in many ways. Shrewd, cunning, manipulative, crafty. His little birds flew far and wide bringing back with them many songs that they chirped prettily in his ear. He had to admit that despite his own extensive network, supported and enabled by his chain of brothels, his reach was as nothing compared to Varys’s. He would have to find a way to neutralise his old friend lest he become too much of an impediment to his plans.

 

Petyr had to admit that he had missed the thrusts and parries of the business world while his attentions had been directed elsewhere. It was good to be back in the saddle where he felt comfortable and in control. This is what he was good at and he owed it to himself after so many years of striving and toiling to see just how far he could go. He could not afford any more distractions which is why he felt it so damnably frustrating that he still thought of her constantly – Sansa. Her words would often echo in his head at the most inopportune moments, during meetings and conference calls or quiet reflective times like now.

 

‘What is success Petyr? It doesn’t look so good from where I’m standing.’

 

He shook his head in exasperation and sipped noisily from his coffee mug. 

 

Suddenly the doorbell rang.  
Oh shit, not now. I’m really not in the mood.  
Frowning, he flung the door open.  
“Margaery? What are you doing here?”  
“Hi Petyr. I’m sorry to barge in on you like this but I need a minute of your time.”  
“Of course, come in,” he stood aside to let her enter closing the door behind her.  
Petyr noticed immediately that the young woman was clothed in a way that he had never seen her before. She was always presented in a way that accentuated her natural voluptuousness but in a slightly conservative manner. Tonight was quite different. She wore a plunging skin tight knit blouse, exposing the fullness of her breasts along with a tight black skirt that just covered her full rounded bottom, revealing her toned and muscled calves and thighs. She towered over him thanks to her ankle-breakingly high stiletto heels.  
“Come through to the lounge. We can be more comfortable in there.”  
“Sounds perfect,” she purred.

What the hell is going on with her? Is she drunk? I can’t smell any alcohol on her.

 

Petyr sat on the divan and gestured to an adjacent armchair but to his surprise Margaery sat down right next to him on the divan, crossed her legs revealing an ample expanse of thigh and started to play with her hair.  
Petyr cleared his throat and spoke steadily, “What did you want to speak to me about Margaery? Is it about Sansa? Is she alright?”  
“Sansa’s getting there slowly Petyr. But it’s not Sansa I wanted to speak to you about. You see, I know that you don’t want to be with her anymore and she seems pretty interested in Harry now.”  
“So, I noticed,” he said, hoping she had not detected the note of bitterness in his voice that he had been unable to entirely conceal. “What of it?”  
“So, I thought maybe you might be a bit lonely.”  
“I’m married, Margaery. Why would I be lonely?” he snapped, annoyed and perturbed by her audacious over-familiarity and the direction in which the conversation appeared to be heading.

 

To his astonishment Margaery suddenly rose to her feet and straddled him, her hands running through the hair at his temples. He froze in shock, completely unprepared for her actions.  
“I’ve always been attracted to you Petyr. I know you don’t really love your wife. I thought maybe we could get to know each other better, see what happens.”  
Margaery’s skirt had completely ridden up her thighs and her breasts were pressed firmly against him. As she began to move against him he was appalled to realise that he was physically responding to her contact, his cock hardening beneath her. She moved in and pressed her mouth to his, her tongue invading his immediately and hungrily.

 

“What the hell are you doing? Get off me.”  
Finally coming to his senses Petyr had broken from the kiss and grabbed at her hands, instinctively shoving Margaery away from him. Losing her balance she fell to the floor with a resounding thump and a loud cry of pain as she landed on her hip.  
“Oh shit! Margaery. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” he cried in alarm, immediately helping her back on to the divan.  
“I’ll be fine,” she grimaced as she rubbed at her hip.  
“But I don’t understand. Aren’t you attracted to me? Don’t you want me? I thought you liked me.”  
She pouted, staring at him with pleading eyes.  
“I do like you Margaery. And you are a beautiful girl. But no, I’m not interested in you in that way.”  
“But why not Petyr? Is it because you’re in love with someone else?”  
He was becoming increasingly exasperated and simply wanted the young woman to leave.  
“Yes, Yes. Alright. I’m in love with someone else. Is that what you wanted to hear.”  
“I didn’t think you loved your wife.”  
“Not her,” he yelled.  
“Then who?” Margaery yelled back.  
“Sansa. It’s Sansa. I wish it wasn’t true but it is. Now will you get the fuck out and leave me alone,” he raged.

 

Margaery waited quietly for him to regain his control.  
“Why are you still here?” he hissed eventually.  
She spoke gently but firmly.  
“Petyr I’m sorry I came here like this. I needed to hear you admit out loud that you still love her before I went on. While it is true that I am attracted to you I didn’t do this to make something happen between us. In fact if you had responded I’m not quite sure what I would have done. I would have been sorely tempted but I could never do it to Sansa.”  
“Sansa and I are over. She doesn’t love me. She never really did, she just thinks she did. Now that she has her real life Prince Charming straight out of a storybook she will know what love should be like and she will look back on our time together as a massive mistake.”

 

“Oh my God. You need to get a grip. Seriously. I’ve never heard so much horse shit in my whole life,” she cried.  
Petyr stared at her stunned.  
“I lied before. She doesn’t care about him. Not like that. She’s fond of him and doesn’t want to hurt him and she’s grateful to him but that’s as far as it goes. All she does is sit there and compare him to you. And guess who wins the competition every time. YOU. Not him, YOU. Right now she’s sitting alone in a cold empty house thinking about how she’s going to go on without you. You’ve managed to convince her that you don’t love her anymore, that Harry was your way out of the relationship without getting your hands too dirty and that you’ve moved on. I know for a fact now that isn’t true. It hurts you unbelievably – the thought of her being with him, doesn’t it?” she asked sadly.  
“It drives me insane,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “But she’s better off with him, don’t you see? Her life has been a fucking mess since she’s known me. Nothing good can ever come of us being together. With him at least she has a chance.”  
“That’s not true. You bring her alive Petyr. Sansa is a completely different person when she’s with you. And when she’s not with you, it’s like half of her is missing. It’s the same with you. And the way you look at her sometimes…God… It’s enough to melt a girl,” she smirked.

 

Petyr smiled wanly and took Margaery’s hand. He suddenly felt very old.  
“I can’t hurt her anymore Margaery. I need to walk away while I still have the willpower to do it.”  
“You still don’t get it Petyr. Please don’t get angry when I say this. But if you walk away from Sansa now she will feel as you did all those years ago when you waited in agony day after day for the love of your life to return to you. Do you remember what that felt like; how much you loved that woman but you were powerless to do anything but watch her fade out of your life? Look at what that did to you. Is that what you want for her?”  
She squeezed his hand and stared deep into his eyes.  
“Please Petyr, don’t do that to her. I know you love her, and she loves you so much. There really is no one else for her but you. A relationship between you won’t be easy but if you just walk away, that will hurt her more than anything else possibly could.”

 

Petyr sighed and leaned back on the divan, running his hand through his hair.  
“Please just think about what I’ve said. Promise me.”  
“Alright. Alright,” he sighed lifting his hands in surrender.  
“And Petyr, I am sorry I ambushed you like that.”  
“I forgive you. I know how much you care about Sansa. You would do just about anything for her. Even throw yourself at an old fart like me.”  
“And that’s another thing. You have to stop with that self-deprecating crap. You are not old. You are a catch Petyr Baelish. And it was far from a hardship to come on to you. It was rather nice actually,” she winked at him, blushing slightly.  
Petyr smirked. “How did your grandmother raise such a naughty little girl?”  
“I’ll let you in on a secret. Underneath her rather cool and reserved exterior lurks the body and mind of a nymphomaniac. She was quite the little minx in her day.”  
Petyr laughed loudly as he tried to reconcile the two diametrically opposed images of Olenna that Margaery had managed to conjure up in his mind.  
“I don’t know if I can believe you there.”  
“Would I lie?” she asked with mock innocence. “I’ll leave you now and I hope you’ll go and talk to Sansa soon. I hope to hear good news.”  
“I’m sorry I can’t promise you that. But I will think about everything you’ve said.”


	35. Laying It On The Line

The next evening Sansa was in the kitchen preparing a light meal when she heard the doorbell chime. Margaery had suggested that she may stop by some time in the evening so she flung the door open, smiling and about to greet her friend when she realised it was someone else altogether at her doorstep. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly.  
“Oh. It’s you Petyr.”  
“That’s not much of a greeting, my sweet. Won’t you greet your Uncle who has missed you properly?”  
She leant in and gave him a peck on the cheek and sighed, opening the door wider to let him pass.  
“Do you want something to eat? I’ve got some fried rice cooking on the stove.”  
“Sounds good.”  
“Wine?”  
“Is the Pope Catholic?”  
Sansa dished up the rice and poured a glass of wine for him, a glass of water for herself. She sat in an armchair and gestured for him to make himself comfortable on the couch.  
“Almost like old times. No wine?” he enquired.  
“Not in the mood. Petyr, why are you here?”  
“I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“Well a lot has gone on. You’ve been through a lot of stressful situations lately. I just wanted to check that things were getting back on track for you.”  
“Oh yeah, peachy,” she snapped.

 

One of Petyr’s eyebrows lifted as he regarded her.  
“Are you angry with me Sansa?”  
“Why would you think that? Do you think I have a reason to be angry with you?”  
“Is this still about your young Harry? I thought you would be happy to know that he was sticking around. I thought the two of you were getting on quite well. It certainly looked like it from where I was sitting.”  
“What happens or does not happen between Harry and me is none of your business,” she replied, her tone all flinty edges as she seethed with rage.   
“But as it turns out I don’t think we’re right for each other. We’ll see each other as friends but that’s all.”

 

“I see. Are you sure? You haven’t really given it much time?”  
“Sometimes you just know.”  
“So, when he kissed you that day at the wake, you didn’t feel anything?”  
She did not respond.  
Have you kissed him since?”  
“I don’t want to have this discussion with you.”  
Her voice was shaky and to her chagrin she felt her face blush.  
“So you did feel something. You can’t lie to me Sansa. Your face and your body betray you every time.”  
She clanged her plate down on the coffee table and rose to her feet, no longer able to contain her fury and wanting to hurt him in the worst possible way.  
“I’m not basing this on a kiss, Petyr. I slept with him,” she yelled. 

 

Petyr shot to his feet and stared fixedly at her, his face contorted in a grimace of surprise and anger.  
“You what?! When?”  
“The night of the wake when he stayed at the house.”  
“Did he take advantage of you?”  
“Not at all.”  
“Was it at your instigation or his.”  
“Completely mine,” she stated firmly.  
“I can’t believe this. You haven’t known this kid for more than two seconds and you jump into bed with him. What the hell are you doing?”  
“It was on the floor actually but that’s beside the point. I was trying to do what you wanted me to do. Move on.”  
“This is not what was supposed to happen,” he muttered more to himself than to her, as he paced back and forth fitfully.  
“It kills you when your plans don’t go down the way you want, doesn’t it? Well, I’m sorry if this little pawn didn’t play the game in quite the way you expected,” she sneered sarcastically.

 

His dark eyes regarded her coldly, his face a blank mask, his voice firm and steady.  
“It certainly didn’t take you long to get over me, did it? You just couldn’t wait to get your feet wet with another man. This tells me everything I need to know. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I won’t trouble you any further. Good night Sansa.”  
She had scrutinised his face closely as he spoke and felt an almost physical pain when she noticed a fleeting look of deep hurt in his eyes as he turned from her. As she watched him cross to the front door and reach for the handle she made the decision to swallow her pride and lay everything on the line one last time.  
“Wait! Don’t you DARE walk away from me again,” she screamed.  
He froze, his hand wrapped around the door handle, but he did not turn to look at her.

 

She strode over to him and grabbed his arm, twirling him to face her. His expression was unreadable.  
“Do you want to know why I slept with him?”  
“I don’t know that I do, actually,” he muttered.  
“Well you’re going to hear it anyway. I did it because I was frightened and alone. Because I saw no hope for us and he was there and he was nice to me. I thought he would make me forget. But it meant nothing. I felt nothing.”  
“Why Sansa? Why did you feel nothing?” he asked quietly.  
“Because he wasn’t you. He wasn’t you and all I could do when he touched me was think of how I feel when you touch me. And when I looked at him all it did was remind me that you had given me to him like a piece of property you didn’t want anymore. How can you give me to another man Petyr? How could you do that?”

 

Petyr grabbed her upper arms and gazed at her intently.  
“I did it for you. I did it because I love you. All I do is put you in harm’s way. I saw the two of you together and I thought he could make you happy. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”  
“But I can’t be happy without you. Don’t you see? I love you so much but all you ever do is push me away. Why do you push me away? It hurts me so much.”  
“Because I don’t deserve you. You deserve so much more than what I can give you.”  
“My mother was foolish for not loving you. She didn’t see what you had to give. That doesn’t mean that you have to go through life thinking you’re never going to be good enough. You are everything that I could ever want in a man. Everything. I don’t want to imagine my life without you. Please, please tell me you’ll stay this time. Please, this time don’t go.”

 

Petyr did not reply; his face looked stricken and his body coiled as though he was on the verge of flight.  
Suddenly he grabbed her face in his hands and crushed her mouth to his, parting her lips and invading her mouth with his tongue. Sansa returned the kiss, whimpering. He grabbed her wrists and walked her backwards pinning her to the wall, his eyes smouldering then crushed himself against her with a moan, releasing her wrists to slide his hands greedily over her body, one knee parting her legs. Sansa’s legs began to weaken so immediate was his effect upon her. He caught her in his arms and lowered her to the floor, her hair pooling in soft red waves around her flushed face. He lowered himself down on her and whispered in her ear, low and soft, his voice heavy with lust.  
“If I take you now, then you’re mine.”  
“Please, I want you. I need you,” she gasped, her excitement snatching the breath from her lungs.

 

Petyr pulled her t-shirt over her head and kissed down her throat to her breasts. He reached under her to unclasp her bra, tearing it from her and sucking fiercely at her breasts while his hands fumbled with the button of her jeans and her zip. She took over pushing them down over her hips and kicking them free with her panties while Petyr stopped to rip off his shirt tossing it aside. Sansa worked at Petyr’s jeans and trunks as he wriggled free of them and kicked them away, already fully erect. Petyr’s mouth returned to Sansa’s breasts where he suckled and nibbled at her while rubbing his member against her sex. Sansa started to whine as she felt a rising warmth in the pit of her belly and a cramping pleasure at her sex; she was already so close. Petyr reached down and circled her clit, making her cry out in ecstasy. Before she reached her peak he lifted both of her legs and placed them over his shoulders and entered her fully with one swift thrust. She cried out at his urgency and the fullness within her and moved against him craving more as she rapidly reached her climax. He thrust quickly and powerfully, changing his angle and depth of penetration to find her sensitive spot. His thumb rubbed insistently at her nub. Sansa began to cry out as her body was overwhelmed by the potency of her pleasure and her depth of feeling for the man inside her. She hugged him ferociously as her body was swamped by a flood of hot pulsating cramps; Petyr tensed and found his release, returning her embrace, his breath hot and ragged in her ear.

 

“God I missed you. I missed you so much,” he panted as he stroked her hair.  
Sansa was unable to speak, so overcome was she by the emotional and physical intensity of their encounter. They lay together like that for some time; neither uttered a word or moved until their muscles started to stiffen and their skin cooled on the hardness of the floor.


	36. A Bedtime Story

Eventually Petyr withdrew from her, stood and grabbed her hands to help her stand, pulling her close to him and embracing her, kissing and nibbing at her neck. She took his hand and led her upstairs to her bedroom where they slipped in under the covers, Petyr spooning against her, warming her cooling body.  
“I feel so happy and safe here with you like this. Please promise me you won’t leave me again, that you won’t push me away,” she whispered.  
“I never want to be apart from you again. It killed me when I thought of you with another man.”  
“Petyr,” she said in a small voice, “you know that’s how I feel when I think about you and Aunt Lysa,” stammered Sansa. “You still make love to her, don’t you?”  
“I don’t make love to her Sansa,” he replied softly. “I have sex with her to keep her on-side and tractable.”  
“I don’t understand how you can do that. You can’t do that anymore.”  
“I will divorce her Sansa but I have to do it gently and with tact. I need you to wait for me until the time is right.”  
“When Petyr?”  
“Soon.”  
Sansa sighed in evident frustration. 

 

Petyr sat up and stared down at her intently.  
“I have to tell you something about your Aunt Lysa and me. I wish I had told you earlier. If I had you would understand why I kept the secret of the scar from you and we never would have had some of the trust issues that have arisen since. But it is hard for me to speak of.”  
“What is it?” she muttered now afraid as she sat up to face him.  
“It’s about what happened between us when we were younger. I need to be completely honest with you and tell you the whole truth.”  
“Oh God. You do love her don’t you? You don’t want to stop having sex with her.” Sansa cried.  
Petyr grabbed her face in his hands.  
“No, no. Sansa. You know that’s not true. I need you to stop now and listen to me. I’m telling you this because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I need you to understand who I am and who she is and who your mother was; what we were to each other. Some of it will not be easy for you to hear, but it will also not be easy for me to tell.”  
“Alright Petyr,” she sniffled. 

 

Petyr drew a deep breath, his eyes troubled. Sansa detected how difficult this was for him and appreciated that he was taking what for him was a big step towards demonstrating his trust in her. She squeezed his hand in encouragement. In a soft gentle voice, he began.

 

“For many years, I loved your mother. You know that already. Your mother, Lysa and I used to play together as children and we were as brother and sisters. But slowly over time my feelings for your mother changed. I didn’t even realise it at first. Just little things. I would notice how her hair would shine in the sun and catch in the breeze. I would look into her eyes and see colours and depths that I had not noticed before. I loved the sound of her voice, the way she moved, her gentle grace. Eventually every moment that I was apart from her became a torture. But she never felt the same about me. 

 

“As we grew older the three of us began to explore our sexuality together. We would take turns at kissing. Your mother would never let me get very far but I noticed that Lysa was much more willing. I started to understand that Lysa was falling for me and it was cruel of me but I did nothing to discourage her. In fact, truth be told, I enjoyed the attention that was denied me elsewhere. I continued to pursue your mother in a million small ways but she never reciprocated my feelings for her.

 

“When your mother’s engagement was announced, the Tully’s held a celebration. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with another man and to my shame and eternal regret I got very drunk. I danced with her most of the night and laid it all out on the line. I told her I loved her and that I wanted her to marry me. She laughed at me Sansa. She actually laughed at me. She pushed me away and told me I was being ridiculous. She told me that I was like a brother to her, that it had never been anything else and that besides, as a potential suitor, I had nothing to offer her. You don’t know what that did to me.”  
“Oh Petyr,” Sansa whispered in dismay, swiping at a stray tear as she contemplated the depth of his pain.  
“I drank more and became so paralytic that one of the house staff had to drag me to my bed that night. Sometime later I woke up and there was a woman in the bed next to me. I was still affected by the drink and it was dark. I thought it was your mother but it wasn’t. It was Lysa. She saw her chance and she took it. I took her virginity that night and she took mine. As soon as I realised what had happened I was completely horrified and rejected her, told her to get the hell away from me. I knew she was hurt but all I could focus on was how she had taken advantage of me and how your mother was slipping further and further away from me.”

 

“And is this when the fight with my Uncle Brandon happened?”  
“Yes. I saw your mother and Brandon together one night soon after and it was too much for me. Well, you know the rest. Your mother moved on with her life and I was left in the hospital fighting for mine. What you don’t know is that when I was released from the hospital, I needed care. I had no one except Lysa who was there to pick up the pieces. I was so completely devastated by losing your mother and brought so low by my injury that I sought solace in the only place I could find it.”  
“Do you mean, Lysa?”  
“Yes, I did not love her Sansa and she knew that. I was grateful to her and she was there while your mother was not, and never would be again. I’m ashamed to say that I used Lysa as she had used me and I slept with her for the second time.”  
Petyr paused, wiping his hand across his brow.  
“Are you alright?” she said in a small voice, concerned at his emotional state.  
“Yes. But this is the really hard bit.”  
“Please go on. Tell me. You need to. You can trust me.”

 

He took a deep breath.  
“Afterwards, when I was well enough to return to my own lodgings, I found out that Lysa was pregnant with my child.”  
Sansa gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth in shock. He continued.  
“I went to her and I offered to stand by her but her family had convinced her that I wasn’t good enough for her and she was to be married to another.”  
Petyr drew a shaky breath and paused again. Sansa squeezed his hand.  
“She aborted our child, Sansa. She killed my little boy or my little girl.”  
“No!” cried Sansa.  
She threw her arms around him and held him tight. She started to sob as she contemplated the true extent of his pain for the first time. She now realised what had made him the way he was; she finally completely understood him.  
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It was so long ago. But do you see now why I kept it buried? The hurt is too deep. No matter how much I believe I have healed, the wound can always be re-opened.”

 

She looked up at him, “Are you still afraid that I’m going to hurt you too? That I’m going to one day turn around and think you’re not good enough?”  
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”  
“That’s not going to happen. Ever.”  
Petyr sighed and smoothed her hair.  
“And do you see now why I have to be careful with Lysa? She’s in a fragile volatile state. She has been taking medication for years for anxiety and depression and she drinks to numb her pain. She knows that I don’t love her. It must be torture for her. Do you understand?”  
“Yes, I see now,” she replied, feeling real compassion for her Aunt for the first time. She did not know what she would do if she was in Lysa’s position.

 

Sansa dragged herself from the bed, pulling him up to face her.  
“Thank you.”  
He looked at her quizzically.  
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth: something that has been buried deep inside you for so long, something so hurtful to you. You trusted me enough that I would be able to deal with something so personal and intimate involving my own family too. Now you need to trust me enough to know that I would never hurt you the way my mother and Lysa have. Do you believe me Petyr?”  
“Yes,” he whispered.  
“I trust you. Completely. I know now exactly who you are. You’ve let me see you for the first time, really see you. I love you Petyr.”  
Petyr folded her in his arms and drew her close, murmuring softly against her ear. They stood there for a long time, relishing the warmth and comfort they found in each other. Petyr took Sansa’s face in his hands and kissed her lips ever so gently, staring deep into her eyes.


	37. Green Eyed Monster

Their tranquillity was broken by the sound of the phone ringing incessantly downstairs.  
“You better answer that,” said Petyr.  
“Do I have to?” Sansa pouted.  
“Come on, I’ll race you down.”  
They laughed at each other as they hurtled still fully naked down the stairs to the lounge room and Sansa dashed to the phone. She lodged it between clavicle and chin and swooped down to retrieve her clothes wrestling with them as she answered her caller, still giggling and breathless.  
“Hello?”  
“Hi Sansa, it’s Harry.”  
“Harry?” Sansa enquired suddenly sobered. She glanced at Petyr who had now paused momentarily in his efforts to re-dress and looked up at her, his expression unreadable.  
“I’m sorry to ring so late. How are you?”  
She couldn’t help thinking something in his tone sounded off.  
“Don’t apologise Harry. It’s great to hear from you. I’m good. Umm. Is everything okay with you?  
There was silence at the other end of the line.  
“Harry, what’s wrong?”  
“It’s my mother, Sansa.”  
“What? What’s wrong with her?”  
“She’s been diagnosed with breast cancer,” he said tremulously.  
“Oh Harry. I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” she cried.  
“She found a lump, they performed a biopsy and they’ve confirmed it’s malignant. But luckily they’ve caught it in the early stages and she’s otherwise healthy and still relatively young so she’s got every chance of making a good recovery. She’s got surgery, then chemo and radiotherapy to go through though. It’s going to be a hard road especially for Dad and my little sister.”  
“It sounds like she’s strong and has got everything going for her and I’m sure she’s in good hands. I’m sure it will all work out and she’ll come through it. How could she not with you there in her corner,” she reassured him.

 

“Thanks Sansa. That means a lot. Anyway, I wanted you to know because I had intentions of moving to King’s Landing in the next week or so but I’ll have to postpone. Mom doesn’t want me to miss out on the opportunity and told me to go ahead and go but there is no way I can do that. I have to stay at least until she turns the corner.”  
“Of course you do Harry. That goes without saying. Family is the most important thing. But I’ll miss you and I’ll be thinking about you. I know that I haven’t met your family and they don’t know me but please send them my best wishes.”  
Petyr’s head tilted to the side as he regarded her quizzically.  
“Thanks Sansa. I will. I’ll ring your Uncle now and let him know what’s happening.”  
“No, you leave that to me. I’ll tell him for you. I’m sure you can do without having to have another conversation like this tonight.”  
“You’re the best. I’ll talk to you again soon.”  
“You will. I’m here for you, okay. You ring me if you need anything.”  
“Thanks. Bye Sansa.”  
“Bye, Harry.”

 

Sansa inhaled and exhaled deeply, as she terminated the call.  
“I take it that there is trouble in the Hardyng camp?” enquired Petyr, his face expressionless. Sansa frowned at him slightly as she studied his eyes.  
“His mother has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Obviously he has to stay in Highgarden for the time being. He was going to ring you and tell you himself but I said that I would relay the message.”  
“I’m very saddened to hear it.” Petyr responded.  
“Are you Petyr?” queried Sansa, instantly regretting that she had spoken her suspicions out loud.  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
“I don’t know. You don’t seem to be all that cut up about it, that’s all.  
“You’re being ridiculous Sansa. What do you think I am? Of course I am sorry for Harry and his family and for his poor mother but just because I don’t cry about it doesn’t make me a heartless bastard,” he snapped.  
“Forget I said anything,” muttered Sansa.  
“No, you were insinuating something. I want to know what it is. I want you to say it.”  
“Alright then. I just thought for a second that you weren’t exactly devastated by the fact that Harry wouldn’t be around right now, that’s all.”  
Petyr frowned and paced back and forth before answering, his voice stern and cold.  
“That’s what you think of me? That I secretly rejoiced at this news because it would rid me of a rival?”  
“No, of course not, but –”  
“But something like it crossed your mind?”  
Sansa’s gaze dropped to her feet. She had indeed thought that this latest development could not have come at a better time for Petyr.  
“That’s great Sansa. Thanks a lot.” He snapped.

 

“But it doesn’t matter anyway,” she rallied, taking a deep breath before changing tack. “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…”  
“What are you saying, Sansa?”  
“If he can’t come here I’m going to go and be with him. He needs me right now.”  
“What!?” Petyr yelled. “You can’t be serious.”  
“I’ve never been more serious. It’s the least I can do for him. He was there for me when I lost my mother. I want to, I have to be there for him when he’s facing the possibility of losing his own mother. What sort of person would I be if I didn’t support him now?”  
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he railed at her. “You obviously haven’t told him you intend to friend zone him. He’s in love with you for Christ’s sake. This is just going to make things worse. You need to tell him where he stands with you not reel him in even closer.”

 

“How do you know he’s in love with me? I’ve never told you that.”  
Petyr’s gaze shifted uncomfortably and he hesitated before answering.  
“It’s as plain as the nose on your face. You can’t let him go on thinking there’s a chance if there’s not.”  
“Are you listening to yourself? Are you seriously suggesting that I turn around and tell him that I don’t have feelings for him in the middle of him trying to deal with his sick mother? How could you possibly be so cruel?”  
“It’s cruel to lead someone on, especially when they’re in a weakened emotional state. You’re not helping him.”  
“I’m not going there to fuck him Petyr,” she raged now furious with him as she rarely swore. “I’m going there to offer him my support.”  
“I’m not sure he will interpret it that way. And look what happened the last time the two of you were alone in an emotional situation,” replied Petyr bitterly.

 

Sansa fumed at that.  
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you threw that in my face. Besides which I think you’ve got a nerve. You just finished telling me why you have to walk on egg-shells around Lysa. You’re not prepared to hurt her for my sake which is completely understandable in the circumstances but why the hell should I hurt Harry for yours. What’s the difference?”  
Petyr stroked his hand roughly through his hair in frustration; she knew that she had won the argument although it gave her no joy.

 

“You’re not going,” he stated firmly.  
“The hell I’m not. You can’t tell me what to do.”  
Sansa started to walk away from him towards the kitchen in an attempt to create some distance between them and defuse the tension. Petyr grabbed her arm roughly and spun her around to face him.  
“Let go of my arm,” she hissed.  
“Not until you see sense. You are not going to see that boy. Do you hear me? You can support him well enough from here. Either that or I’m coming with you.”  
“I said let – go – of – my – arm.”  
Her voice now trembled with rage as she bristled at his possessive overreaction. Petyr dropped his hand from her. Struggling to control her temper, she continued more calmly.  
“I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore. You either trust me or you don’t. Harry can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be with him like that. I only want you. There is no reason for you to be this way.”

 

“Fine,” replied Petyr, wiping his brow with his hand.  
“Go and see your young Harry. But it’s a big mistake. If things go pear-shaped, which they most certainly will, don’t ask me to be around to pick up the pieces. I can’t do it anymore.”  
Sansa stared at him her mouth agape, now stunned at his coldness towards her after their intimate lovemaking and his confession from only moments earlier.  
“But you said you would always be there for me. What happened to that?”  
“Not if you wilfully defy me knowing how much it would hurt me and yourself,” he snapped.  
“You’re being completely unreasonable. I’m not going there to spite you. It’s not always all about you,” she yelled.  
Petyr took a deep breath and looked at her calmly, his voice devoid of emotion.  
“Well. There we have it then. I’ll see myself out. I hope you have a safe trip. Please give my best to Harry and his family. Good night Sansa.”

 

Petyr strode swiftly to the door and reached for the door handle.  
“Don’t go like this Petyr. Don’t be like this. We finally sorted things out between us. Why do you always have to do this?”  
Petyr turned to regard her, his face a blank mask  
“The wolf changes its hair but not its nature,” he responded.  
“Petyr, don’t leave.”  
But her pleas came too late as the door slammed noisily behind him.


	38. The Hardyngs

As the cab neared the Hardyng family home Sansa fingered the mockingbird pendant at her throat and stared absently out of the window. Despite her anger and frustration she knew why Petyr had reacted the way he had and had tried for days to reach out to him. She rang his cell but he would not take her calls or answer the voicemails she left for him. She contacted the office several times but Ros advised her that Petyr was constantly in meetings, conference calls or out of town on business. She texted him.

‘I love you. Please just let me know you’re alright.’ 

He did not reply. Sansa had contemplated visiting him at his house but she knew he would only feel cornered and that it was unlikely to end well, especially as she had no intention of changing her mind about seeing Harry. She hoped that some distance between them and time apart would calm him down and make him reflect on how unreasonable he was being. She sighed as the cab slowed to a stop and the driver twisted his head to address her.  
“This is the address, Miss.”  
“Thank you.”

 

After paying the fare to her driver, Sansa walked up the narrow gravel driveway to the house. It was a modest brick veneer dwelling but well maintained with a large beautifully tended cottage garden and an immaculately groomed lawn. As she waited for a response to the chime of the doorbell she inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet and savoury notes of the fragrances from the garden, a delightful mix of floral and herbal scents from the many diverse plants growing on either side of the entrance. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal a young girl, a little younger than Arya with an unruly shock of deep brown hair, huge eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks.  
“Hello,” said Sansa with a smile. “I am looking for Harry Hardyng. I hope I’ve got the right place. I’m a friend of his. My name is Sansa.”  
Nell looked up at her and smiled cheekily. “Hi. I’m his sister Nell. I’ll get him for you.”  
“Thank you Nell.”

 

Moments later a confused but clearly delighted Harry appeared at the door. He stared at her for a moment and then lunged at her lifting her and crushing her to him and twirling her around eliciting a squeal from Sansa.  
“Sansa! You’re real. I’m not imagining it. You came all the way here. It’s so good to see you. You didn’t have to do this,” he blurted excitedly.  
He was about to lean in and kiss her but both of them were acutely aware of a curious little set of eyes keenly watching their exchange from inside the house and settled for a quick hug instead.  
“Do you greet all of your visitors like that?” she jested.  
“Only the really special ones. Mom and Dad aren’t here. They’re at the hospital. Mom has an appointment with an oncologist. But we don’t have insurance so the waiting times are always horrendous. They could be gone for a while.”  
Sansa sighed. “That’s terrible Harry. I’m so sorry they have to go through all this; that you have to go through all this.”  
“We’ll be okay. Things haven’t always been easy but we’ve always managed to get through somehow. This will be no different. Do you want to come in or would you like to sit out in the garden? There’s a bench over there in the corner.”  
“The garden definitely; it’s gorgeous.” 

 

“Behave squirt,” said Harry as he closed the front door but not before noticing Nell’s tongue poking out at him. He poked his tongue out at her in response to which she giggled. He squeezed Sansa’s hand warmly and led her to a small wooden bench sitting under a large yew tree.  
“This garden is so beautiful. It’s your handiwork I take it?”  
“It’s mine and it’s my mother’s. It’s like a bit of a mother and son project. She has always loved gardening and that’s where I picked up the interest from. At least once a week, mostly on weekends when I’m not working at the Tyrell’s we’ll spend hours out here just talking and laughing while we….”  
Harry had paused taking a deep shaking breath.  
Sansa wove her arms around Harry’s waist and laid her head on his shoulder, hugging him tight.  
“Harry. I’m so sorry. It sounds like the two of you have a wonderful relationship. Before you know it she’s going to be through her troubles and back out here again with you like nothing ever happened. I know it.”  
“Thanks Sansa. I can’t tell you how good it feels to have you here.”  
“I wanted to come. I care about you Harry,” she said sincerely.  
Harry sighed and hugged her tightly before moving himself from her embrace to regard her.

 

“But how are you? I mean since your mother passed away?”  
“I won’t lie. It’s not easy. The house seems so empty sometimes but I take it one day at a time.”  
“I wish I could be there with you.”  
“Me too. But you will be soon. You are still coming aren’t you?  
“Yes. I’ve made up my mind. No matter what happens I will be moving to King’s Landing. When did you get here?”  
“I flew in last night. I’m staying at the Tyrell’s.”  
“How long are you staying.”  
“Just until tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got school Monday morning.  
“Oh yes of course. I forgot. It’s a shame you can’t stay longer. I’ve missed you.”  
“I’ve missed you too,” Sansa replied smiling at him and squeezing his hand.  
Harry wove his arm around Sansa’s waist while his other hand melded around the back of her head bringing her face close to his for a warm deep kiss. Sansa embraced him back, returning the kiss and running her hands through his hair. His hands began to slide over her hips to rest on her thighs where his fingers rubbed in slow circular movements.  
No I can’t. This is so wrong. I can’t let this escalate. 

 

Sansa broke from the kiss and cast her eyes down.  
“Is everything okay Sansa?” he asked, a look of concern furrowing his brow.  
“Yes. I’m sorry Harry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what –“  
“It’s okay Sansa,” he interrupted gently. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. I know we’ve already slept together but I don’t want you to think that I expect you to jump into bed with me at the drop of a hat. I’m just happy to be with you.”  
Sansa’s remorse could not have been deeper at that moment as she regarded the extent of his consideration of her. She wiped at a stray tear and hugged him tight.  
“I don’t deserve to have you in my life,” she mumbled.  
“Don’t be silly,” he said stroking his hair. “The day I met you was the best day of my life.”  
“That’s so sweet Harry.”  
“It’s the truth.”  
Harry hugged her close and kissed her on the top of the head.  
“Let’s go inside. It’s getting a bit cool out here.” 

 

It was some time later while sitting in the lounge room that they heard a rattle of keys in the front door.  
A deep voice boomed out. “God it’s good to be back home. I hate hospitals.”  
“You and me both honey,” replied a softer female voice, edged with fatigue.  
The man and woman stopped in their tracks staring at Sansa with quizzical expressions. Harry and Sansa stood to greet them.  
“Mom, Dad, you’re back. I want to introduce you to my friend Sansa. She is Petyr Baelish’s niece. She came all this way to see me.”  
Harry’s mother was the first to approach extending her hand, her green eyes warm and friendly. It was clear that Harry did not get his height from her. Her small slight frame barely reached up to Sansa’s shoulder. Her chin length hair was thick and dark like Harry’s but with light dustings of silver throughout. She appeared a few years older than her own mother had been when she passed.  
“It’s so lovely to meet you Sansa, dear. Harry has told us all about you. He said you were very beautiful but he didn’t do you justice.”  
Sansa blushed and didn’t know where to look but smiled shaking the woman’s hand.  
“I’m so happy to meet you Mrs Hardyng. And I am very sorry to hear of your illness.”  
“Thank you. Please call me Elise, Sansa. And I am very sorry for the loss of your mother. That must have been very difficult for you.”  
“Yes, it was. But Harry was there for me and that made all the difference,” she smiled sincerely.

 

Elise’s husband had been silent the whole time as he quietly observed the women’s interaction, but now stepped towards Sansa taking her hand in his and patting it in a fatherly fashion. He was very like Harry but his face was careworn and lined with deep creases at the corner of his eyes and mouth, his hair greying and beginning to recede, his posture slightly stooped. His hands were calloused and dry, his skin was darkly tanned from exposure to the sun. Harry had once told her that his father was an excavation worker so he was constantly out in the elements. In contrast, his eyes were soft and warm speaking of a cheerful and agreeable manner, reminding her very much of his son.  
“He’s a good boy, our Harry. So if you are a friend of his then you are a friend of this family. Welcome to our home Sansa. You can call me Ben.”  
“Thank you Ben. I’m so pleased to meet you both and to be here. I’m sorry that I came unannounced but I wanted to surprise Harry.”  
“Well you achieved that,” interjected Harry, with a fond smile. 

 

“Where are you staying Sansa?” enquired Elise.  
“At the Tyrell’s. Unfortunately I won’t be able to stay long, just until tomorrow. I’ve got school on Monday.”  
“Oh that’s such a shame. Next time you must come and stay with us for a while. We have a guest room. It’s not much but it’s warm and comfortable.”  
“Thank you Elise. That’s very kind. I really like your home. It has so many personal touches,” Sansa said sincerely. “And the front garden is spectacular.”  
“Thanks mainly to my son. He does most of the heavy lifting.”  
“Ahhh,” replied Harry. “But you bring the woman’s touch and that’s much more important.”  
“What they’re trying to say,” Ben interrupted with gruff pride, “is that together they make a great team.”  
“They sure do,” agreed Sansa enthusiastically.

 

“So what are you two going to do for the rest of the day?” enquired Elise.  
“You know, I hadn’t even given it any thought,” replied Harry glancing at Sansa.  
“I would really like you to take me to see my mother’s tree.”  
“Oh, you haven’t been out to see it yet?”  
“No I wanted to wait until we could see it together.”  
Sansa noticed Elise and Ben shooting each other meaningful glances and felt instantly guilty.  
“But I don’t want to run out on you guys. I want to hear what happened at the hospital,” said Harry.  
“I won’t hear of it Harry. I can give you all the boring details later. You and Sansa enjoy your time together. She has to go home soon. Make the most of it,” said Elise.

 

“Are you sure Mom?  
“Of course. Sansa, dear we hope you can come and visit again soon. It was lovely to meet you. Please give our regards to your Uncle. He was very kind and sent me a beautiful big bunch of flowers earlier in the week. And of course, we will never be able to thank him enough for what he’s doing for Harry.”  
How can you be such an arsehole sometimes and then turn around and do something so sweet Petyr?  
“I loved meeting the both of you too. You take care Elise. Can I ring you next week and see how you’re going?”  
“I would like that Sansa,” Elise smiled giving Sansa a warm peck on the cheek.  
“Goodbye Sansa,” said Ben taking her hand and squeezing it. “It was very good of you to support Harry this way. I hope to see you again soon.”  
“Me too Ben. And Harry’s worth it. He’s a great friend.”

 

After saying goodbye to Nell who had been listening to rather loud music in her bedroom, Sansa and Harry hopped into Harry’s Jeep, reversing slowly down the driveway to the main road.  
“Well. That went well. You have some fans there. They really liked you. I don’t really remember them taking so quickly to the other girls I’ve brought to meet them.”  
“I liked them too. They’re wonderful. And your sister reminds me a bit of Arya: full of spunk. Umm. Just how many girls have you taken to meet your parents?” she enquired teasingly.  
“Hundreds….no, I’m kidding. Just two others but it didn’t work out, obviously.”  
“Only two? That really surprises me.”  
“I’m not one to go in for one night stands. When I find a girl it’s always with the intention of it being for keeps. But unfortunately it hasn’t worked out that way. They usually get bored with me and then that’s that.”  
“Bored with you? No way! How could they get bored with you?”  
“They get tired of not being able to go away on trips, not being able to eat at the best restaurants, not getting invited to the best parties. It’s expensive to live here Sansa and I just don’t have the means or the connections to keep them interested.”

 

“Well, the hell with them,” Sansa scoffed. “They’re idiots. If they can’t see what they’ve got in front of them, they’re crazy.”  
He glanced at her warmly. “That’s what I love about you. You take people as you find them. Not for the contents of their bank account. You don’t judge and there’s no pretension. Your Uncle’s the same.”  
Sansa stared at Harry and realised something for the first time.  
“It has only just occurred to me that the two of you are really quite alike too. Maybe that’s partly why he has decided to help you. He sees in you a kindred spirit.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You can’t repeat any of this. He’s a very proud and stubborn man,” said Sansa. She couldn’t help but smile fondly as she knew this to be a massive understatement.  
“You can count on my discretion.”

 

Sansa began.  
“Uncle Petyr came from very humble beginnings too and his early life was nothing but struggle. His family was not well connected and while he has a good education and is an incredibly intelligent astute man, he just could not break through to secure the well paid jobs or attain the social positions of his peers. His love was rejected too even though he had so much of it to give. As a result he’s gone through his whole life thinking he’s not good enough. Somehow through a pure act of willpower he has fought his way to where he is now but something is still missing in his life.”  
Harry had glanced at her then with a strange look in his eye. Sansa hoped that he had not detected the sadness in her tone when she spoke of Petyr and looked away quickly.  
“I wouldn’t have suspected anything like that. He seems incredibly confident and controlled, almost intimidatingly so.”  
“Yes,” she said, “he’s very good at maintaining that façade of his. But every now and then he lets it slip.”

 

Having arrived at the Tyrell estate, Harry turned into the driveway and parked in front of the mansion and turned to regard her.  
“You’re very lucky to have him Sansa. He obviously loves you very much.”  
She struggled to maintain her composure as she became acutely aware of Harry’s close scrutiny.  
“He’s been very kind to me. He is my uncle by marriage so until very recently I didn’t even know him. He’s been a Godsend to me really,” she replied.  
“It surprises me to hear that you haven’t known each other very long. When I saw you together at the wake it was like you’d known each other forever.”  
Sansa sighed. “Yes, we’ve been like that since the first time we met,” she almost whispered, struggling to keep tears at bay as she recalled their many carefree and playful exchanges.  
“Anyway, enough of Uncle Petyr. Let’s go see this beautiful tree. 

 

Sansa let herself in through the front door with the key that Loras had given her and gestured for Harry to enter. He had often done light repair jobs inside for extra money so he was familiar with the layout of the mansion. He moved towards the back door leading out to the garden and opened it to allow Sansa to exit. As they walked hand in hand down the garden path, Sansa felt herself gradually consumed by a persistent feeling of dread. Eventually she froze, her eyes darting this way and that, her body trembling.  
Harry turned to her in concern, touching his hand to her hair and stroking it gently.  
“Sansa? What’s wrong? Oh, of course. God I’m stupid. I should never have brought you out here. What was I thinking?”  
Harry embraced her and whispered soothingly to her.  
“Come on let’s go back inside,” he suggested but Sansa straightened up and took a deep breath.  
“No, I need to do this. I can’t let Joffrey win.” 

 

Sansa proceeded on shaky legs until rounding a bend and glancing towards a small incline off to the side of the path, she spied the oak sapling, waving gently in the breeze.  
“It seems to have taken well. Being an oak it will take a very long time to grow but it looks healthy.”  
“It’s beautiful Harry. I still can’t believe you did this for me, for my mother.”  
She stretched up to kiss him lightly on the lips, squeezing his hand.  
As Sansa made her way closer to the tree she noticed a wooden and cast iron bench adjacent, The plaque on the backrest read ‘In Loving Memory of Catelyn Stark, 1968-2013’. *  
“Where did this come from?” Sansa asked running her hands over the inscription.  
“Your uncle. He was here on Tuesday to speak to Loras and organised for it to be installed on Thursday. He asked that you not be told and that it would be a surprise for you when you visited the estate.”  
Sansa recalled that she had tried to ring Petyr at work on Tuesday and Ros had told him something about being on a business trip. He had not answered her calls or her texts, but he had done this for her, for her mother. This, she realised, was his apology to her for his jealous outburst.

 

Sansa stared at Harry and began to weep as she finally gave in to the tumult of her emotions.  
Harry put his arm around her shoulders and led her to sit on the bench, embracing her and stroking her hair.  
After she calmed, Harry took her gently by the upper arms and straightened her to face him.  
“I’m sorry Harry. I came here to support you and look at me. I’m useless right now.”  
“No, no you’re not. Sansa. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t have any right to ask you this, but is something going on between you and your uncle?”  
Sansa’s lower lip trembled and she was rendered completely incapable of speech. Harry took her hand in his and sighed deeply.  
“You’re in love with him aren’t you?”  
She nodded slowly as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks.  
“I’m so sorry Harry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I care about you. I never meant for any of this to happen,” she cried, wiping furiously at her tears with her hand. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how to. And then, your mother…. I’m a terrible person. I hate myself,” she sobbed.  
“No you’re not Sansa. You were in a difficult situation. I understand. And if I’m truthful this doesn’t come as a complete surprise to me. But I hoped I had it all wrong.”  
“What do you mean,” she asked in a small voice.

 

“I noticed it for the first time at your mother’s wake,” he explained.  
“When I gave you the gift I noticed a man staring at us. Of course, I didn’t know who he was at the time but later I found out it was Petyr. It was completely unnerving. That man has eyes like laser beams. Anyway, I nearly wet myself when he came outside to talk to me but then he introduced himself and started to talk about his offer to pay for my education. When he was speaking about you it was so obvious how deeply he cares about you but at that stage I just thought it was like parental concern particularly as it was the day of your mother’s funeral. I had no reason to think otherwise. I did think it was amazing that he would offer to do all that for me just because I was your friend but again, I didn’t understand it to be anything other than a mark of his gratitude and generosity.

 

“When I came back in I started to notice that wherever you went his eyes followed you and then while I was talking with your brothers I saw the two of you together for the first time. Perhaps it was because I was an outsider looking in, I don’t know, but I began to realise that something was not as it seemed. I couldn’t hear a word of what you said to each other but your faces and your bodies said it all. I could tell that you were very angry; he was playing it cool. But the way you looked at each other – there was something there, underneath. As you walked away from him I think I saw a little of what you were telling me about earlier. He had this look on his face that was there one second and then gone the next. I couldn’t really put my finger on what it was; it was that quick.” 

 

“As you know, I went to see him at his office before I returned to Highgarden to formally accept his offer. It became clear to me that he was helping me to ensure that I stuck around for you, to support you. I had to be completely honest with him and tell him how I felt about you.”  
“You told him? He knew how you felt about me?” she asked tremulously.  
“Yes, and when I said the words his reaction told me everything I needed to know. He tried very hard to hide it but this time I knew that he had feelings for you that went way beyond what an uncle feels for his niece. He kept saying he wanted you to be happy and nothing was more important to him than you. But it wasn’t what he said it was the way he sounded when he said it and the look in his eyes. Even though he loved you he was encouraging our friendship knowing exactly how I felt about you because he wanted you to be happy. I knew there and then what the true nature of his feelings were for you. But, up until that point I wasn’t sure about how you felt about him.

 

“That is, until we were in the car and just now standing here by the tree. In the car, when you were telling me about his difficult youth and how the women in his past rejected him, your voice sounded like your heart was breaking for him. When I told you I thought you had known each other for years, you couldn’t even hold it together. Sansa, you love him every bit as much as he loves you. Don’t you?”  
“I love him more,” she whimpered as she wiped at her eyes.  
“I know it looks bad. He’s so much older than I am. But he fought it so hard. He’s pushed me away so many times. That’s why he pushed me towards you. He thinks he’s hurting me; that he’s not good enough for me, that he’s not what I need. None of this is his fault. I keep pulling him back in because I can’t let go. If anything I’m the one who caused all of this, not him.”  
She breathed deeply and looked Harry in the eye uncertainly, fearing that she would see disapprobation there but she could detect nothing but concern and compassion.

 

“You don’t have to explain to me. I’m not judging. I’ll be the first to admit that we can’t always control who we fall in love with.”  
Harry paused breathing deeply.  
“Harry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” Sansa pleaded.  
“I don’t hate you. I’m just disappointed but I’ll be even more disappointed if this means we can’t see each other again.”  
“Then you still want to be my friend, even after all of this?”  
“If you want me to be, then yes.”  
“Yes. Of course I do. Thank you Harry,” she smiled hugging him to her tightly. “But what’s going to happen now with Petyr and his offer to you?”  
“We have an agreement and we are both standing by it.”  
“I’m so glad. I really don’t deserve you but I’m happy you’ll be around.”  
“You deserve to be happy Sansa. And if Petyr can make you happy you should be with him. But I will still be there for you. You can count on it.”

 

Sansa smiled at him fondly and pulled him from the bench.  
“Come on, let’s go inside now. Can you stay a while tonight? I’ll cook you some dinner. I want to spend as much time with you as I can before I go.”  
Harry pulled her closer to face him and reached up his hand to touch her face. He stared at her intently, his longing for her barely contained.  
“Will you just do one thing for me?”  
“Name it.”  
“Will you kiss me one last time?” he whispered.  
Sansa stepped closer until their bodies were almost touching and stretching up, threaded her fingers together behind his head pulling his lips to hers. The kiss was long, warm and tender as they embraced bringing each other close. After a moment they pulled apart and smiled tentatively at one another before retracing their steps along the path to the mansion hand-in-hand.

 

They had eaten their meal together, their conversation light and easy when suddenly Harry’s mobile rang. He reached into his pocket to extract it, checking the number on the display.  
“It’s Mom. Excuse me for a second Sansa. Hey Mom. What’s up? Is everything okay?”  
“What? He did what? I can’t believe this. I’m so happy for you Mom. This is going to make all the difference. Of course I will. Okay Mom. I love you. And that’s terrific news. Bye.”  
Harry grinned at the phone and stared up at Sansa stunned.  
“What is it Harry? What’s happened?”  
“You’re not going to believe this. My father took a call from Petyr right after we left the house. He is paying for my mother’s medical expenses in a private facility with a specialised state of the art breast cancer ward.”  
“What?” cried Sansa in disbelief.  
“My father is a proud man and at first wasn’t having any of it but Petyr made a very good point. She won’t have as long to wait for treatment and the level of care will be exceptional. It could really make a huge difference to her outcome. I can’t believe he would do that for my family.”  
Sansa wiped at a stray tear as she reached over and squeezed Harry’s hand.  
“You all deserve it. He knows that.”  
“I can’t thank him enough. I’ll ring him myself tomorrow. He just finds new ways to surprise you every day, doesn’t he?”  
“You have no idea,” Sansa replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Catelyn's year of death on the tribute bench is 2013 to mirror the year that TV Catelyn died during the Red Wedding episode of GOT.


	39. The Wages of Mistrust

Monday had been well, a typical Monday like any other. Full of tedium and frustration and bad tempers smoothed over by false workplace civility. Even Petyr’s usually diverting watercooler banter with Varys did little to distract him from his ennui. He was very glad to see the back of his colleagues when he left the office that evening and settled in to the chair in his study for a glass or two of wine. He thought his day could not possibly get any worse until he flipped open his laptop and checked his personal email inbox to spy a new message from earlier in the day. The sender was Royce and included an attachment. He had been anticipating this correspondence but now he was loathe to open it for fear of what it may contain. 

 

Petyr read through the email which provided dates and times and other details but it was really the attachment that would contain the information he needed. He clicked on it apprehensively. As he scanned the contents and reached the end of the file, he sighed deeply and hit ‘print’. A whirring and clicking sounded as a number of pages printed out on the adjacent inkjet printer. He slammed the lid of the laptop down and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. He reached for his wine and swallowed the whole glass in a few mouthfuls.

 

He was about to head to the kitchen for a re-fill when the doorbell rang.   
“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled.  
He opened the door and froze as he registered Sansa’s presence on the porch.  
“Sansa,” he clipped coldly. “What do you want?”  
“Can I come in?”  
“I don’t see the point. We really have said everything that needs to be said.”  
“Please Petyr,” she pleaded.  
Petyr hesitated and then gestured for her to enter, closing the door after her.  
“I was just getting some wine. Do you want some?”  
“No thank you.”  
Petyr disappeared into the kitchen leaving Sansa to fidget nervously just inside the door.

 

He stopped to regard her as he re-entered the room. She appeared pale and fragile, a fractured glass ornament flimsily mended and ready to shatter at the slightest touch. She wore the outfit that he had first seen her in on that fateful day in her bedroom, an apparent manipulation on her part that was not lost on him. She fiddled with a strand of her hair and bit at her bottom lip nervously as she timidly met his gaze. He almost lost his resolve but steeled himself to show no reaction.  
“Are you going to stand there all night?”  
He moved into the lounge and bid her to follow him, which she appeared to do with some hesitation. He sat in the armchair and gestured at the divan for her to take a seat.

 

“What can I do for you Sansa?”  
“Have you had a call from Harry?”  
“No, I have not.”  
“He’s going to ring you to say thank you in person. He told me what you did. About his mother’s medical expenses.”  
“The woman will die if she has to wait for the ever so slow wheels of our public hospital system to turn.”  
“Don’t minimise it Petyr. What you did was incredibly generous.”  
“I’ve more money than I know what to do with. I never really cared about money. It’s more of a by-product of my real objectives. I’m more than happy to spend it where it will do some good,” he stated flippantly.

 

“Harry showed me the tree.”  
“Oh yes,” said Petyr feigning nonchalance.  
“Thank you for the tribute bench. I can’t tell you what it meant to me.”  
“Perhaps I did not do it for you. Perhaps I did it for myself and for her. I loved Cat once you know,” he snapped feeling a slight pang of guilt when he noticed Sansa’s pained reaction. He squashed the feeling instantly.  
“Harry said it was a surprise for me,” she replied in barely more than a whisper.

 

Petyr shifted in his chair slightly, caught as he was in an obvious lie. Sansa perhaps sensing an opening, unfolded from the divan and approached him, kneeling in front of him. She placed her hands on his legs and stared up at him. He flinched slightly but returned her gaze unblinkingly, his eyes dark and narrowed.  
“Please Petyr. Please won’t you forgive me? I know going to see Harry hurt you. I should have been more sensitive to your feelings. I’m sorry.”  
“Ah. Harry. How is Harry? Did you have a nice time catching up with him?”  
“Yes, of course, but I don’t want to talk about Harry now Petyr. I want to talk about us.”  
“As I said there is nothing more to talk about,” he responded stiffly.  
“How can you say that after everything we’ve been through?” she cried.  
“What exactly is it that you want from me?” he yelled.  
“I want you to tell me you love me and that we can have a life together.”  
“Is that what you really want, or is this what you really want?”

His arms snaked out with lightning speed and grabbed at her arms as he stood, hauling her to her feet. She gasped with the suddenness of the movement and the closeness of his body as he shoved her towards a nearby wall, crushing her up against it and separating her legs with one of his. She could smell the wine on his breath as he brought his face close. She thought he was going to kiss her but instead he grasped her wrists with one of his and slammed them against the wall over her head, eliciting a cry from her.  
“Petyr you’re hurting me.”  
He ignored her as his free hand tore at the front of her blouse, the light material tearing with an astoundingly loud rip. There was none of the usual heightened passion in this encounter; he was driven by anger and pain, and an overriding need to satisfy his physical urges. The difference in his demeanour and in his touches became very apparent to Sansa as she began to struggle against him in panic.  
“Please Petyr. What are you doing?”

 

Petyr began to kiss and nip at the skin of her chest hungrily moving his mouth across her as his free hand groped under the hem of her skirt, yanking roughly at her panties as he sought her sex.  
“No Petyr. Don’t,” she sobbed.   
He was so inflamed by his rage, pain and desire for her that he did not register her pleas. He rubbed himself up against her, his member now fully hardened as he bit at her neck. Sansa began to scream as she writhed against him desperately seeking an escape. Suddenly a switch flicked and he came to his senses, immediately thinking of Sansa’s encounter with Joffrey and what effect his actions would now be having on her.

 

He dropped his hands and moved away from her breathing heavily, while Sansa slid to the floor grasping the material of the torn blouse around her and sobbing uncontrollably. He was immediately ashamed and mortified by what he had done and desperately wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her but he could not compel himself to move towards her. Instead he left the room returning some time later with a jacket and the pictures from the printer which he thrust roughly into her hands. She had stopped crying but was still clearly distressed. He nearly weakened then but felt that he must press on.  
“Here. Cover yourself and take a look at these. You’ll find them interesting.”  
Sansa slipped on the jacket and looked perplexedly at him before scanning the pictures on the pages, her eyes widening with shock. Harry twirling her in his arms outside his house, Harry and her kissing beneath the yew tree, Harry and her walking hand in hand at the Tyrell estate.

 

“Oh my God. You had me followed,” she cried in dismay and disbelief.  
“Some of Royce’s best work.”   
Petyr plucked one of the pictures from the pile and showed it to her.   
“This one is my particular favourite.”  
Sansa’s eyes flicked over the image of herself and Harry standing by the tribute bench, their bodies locked in a tight embrace, their lips connected in a deep kiss. Petyr watched her shocked reaction closely.  
“You really do look like a beautiful couple in that one. I am led to believe that he didn’t depart the mansion until the early hours of the morning. I would say you had a very nice catch up with young Harry,” he sneered.

 

She stared at him with tear-filled eyes and shook her head slowly.  
“No Petyr. Listen to me. You’ve got it all wrong.”  
“These pictures don’t lie, Sansa.”  
“No, nothing happened. It’s not what it looks like.”  
“One of the most over-used clichés of all time,” he snarled.  
“But I swear to you. We didn’t do anything. I was saying goodbye to him. I was telling him that he was only a friend to me and that -”  
Petyr could no longer endure her impassioned pleas and ran his hand roughly through his hair before glaring at her and steadying his voice.  
“Get out. Get the fuck out. You’re nothing but a whore. Don’t ring me, don’t text me, don’t come here again. You are dead to me.”  
“Petyr please listen to me. I-”  
“I said GET OUT!” he raged slamming his hand against the wall above her.   
She pulled herself from the floor and slunk from the room sobbing, clutching his jacket around her. As the door slammed behind her he looked down at the pictures that lay discarded at his feet and back up at the door, desperately willing himself not to run after her.

 

Minutes later his cell phone rang. As he extracted it from his pocket he noticed Harry’s number on the call display.  
Shit I must have pissed off all the Gods to deserve a day like today.   
He took a deep breath before answering. “Hello Harry,” he intoned calmly, “How are you? How is your mother?”  
“I’m good Petyr, my mother is doing okay. Better now thanks to you. She’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow. I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve really gone above and beyond for my family. I can never repay this debt.”  
“I’ve told you what you have to do to repay me Harry. Look after Sansa. That is all I require of you. ”  
“Have you spoken to Sansa yet Petyr, I mean since she got back?”  
“Yes. She just left here actually,” he said grimacing to himself as he replayed the incident in his head.

“Look, I just wanted to let you know that I’m cool with it. It was hard to hear but I can move on from it. And I am not judging the two of you or anything.”  
Petyr blanched and swallowed hard, an overriding feeling of dread washing over his entire body.  
“What are you talking about Harry?”  
“You and Sansa.” Harry paused, “Wait, did she tell you that I know about the two of you? She said that she was going to tell you. Oh hell.”  
“You know about us?” he stammered.  
“Look, I already had suspicions from seeing the two of you together and the way you talk about each other. But yeah. She told me. She tried to let me down as gently as she could. She’s always thinking about everybody else’s feelings, never her own. But I guess you know that already about her.”

 

“Yes. I do. Harry thank you for calling. I have to go now but I’m glad that your mother will get the treatment she needs. If I can do anything else to help, please call me.”  
“You’ve done enough already. Good night Petyr.”  
“Good night Harry.”  
Petyr felt as though he had been punched square in the guts. 

What the fuck have I done?


	40. Forgiveness

As Sansa trudged home from the bus stop a light drizzle settled in around her compounding her misery. Earlier, the bus driver had scrutinised her with obvious concern but had said nothing as she had alighted and moved to the back of the bus, curling up against the window and staring absently at the passing scenery as they drove the circuitous route towards her street. She wiped at a stray tear as the scenes from her altercation with Petyr replayed in her head. She could not erase the memory of the look in his eyes when he had attacked her. Gone was the desire underpinned by his love for her, replaced with the rapacious hunger and pain of a wounded animal. While she could not excuse the violence of his actions she understood that her perceived betrayal had broken him.

He did all those wonderful things for me and for Harry and then he sees those photos. He must have been devastated. It would have reminded him so much of my mother’s rejection. He must hate me so much now.

As much as that caused her pain she could not ignore the fact that he had spied on her, a flagrant act of distrust and that he had continued his assault of her when he knew what she had so recently been through with Joffrey. 

 

Sansa rubbed at her eyes as she neared the house and rummaged around in her bag for her keys. Suddenly she became aware of a male figure standing under the porch light; she froze in fright, the keys clinking to the ground.  
“Sansa.”  
His voice was strained and little more than a whisper but it mesmerised her instantly; his eyes gazed at her intently, devoid of the fury so recently writ there. He looked almost child-like: frightened and ashamed. She could not speak or move but stared at him fixedly, her breathing shallow and rapid.  
“Please I need to speak with you.”  
“You hurt me and you scared me Petyr,” she whimpered as she shivered and hugged his jacket tightly around her.  
“I know I did sweetheart. You don’t know how much I hate myself right now.” 

 

Petyr took a tentative step towards her but she backed away in fear.  
“No, please. Don’t be scared of me Sansa. I won’t touch you. Can we please go inside?” he pleaded. “I just want you to listen to me and then I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again. But I can’t leave it like this.”  
Sansa slowly bent down to pick up the keys and steeled herself to walk past him. With trembling hands she fumbled the front door key in the lock and hesitated before opening the door. Without uttering a word she walked inside but left the door ajar. She heard his footfalls on the floorboards as he followed her in, having first closed the door behind him. As she stood with her back turned to him he walked up close behind her but he stopped short and did not touch her.  
“Won’t you look at me?” he asked softly.  
“I’m going upstairs now to shower and get changed. I’m cold and wet,” she muttered.  
“Oh, of course. I’ll wait down here for you.”

 

Without turning to acknowledge him she trudged tiredly up the stairs to her bedroom to retrieve some dry clothing before heading to the bathroom. She undressed, turned on the shower and stepped under the steaming hot spray, relishing the soothing warmth of the water as it flowed down her chilled body. 

 

Why is he here? To apologise? He was so angry with me. He said he never wanted to see me again. What do I say to him? What can we possibly have left to say to each other?

 

As she lathered shampoo into her hair, she came to the realisation that she wanted very much to forgive him. She would forgive him. If she did not he would carry this guilt around with him for the rest of his life. As much as he had hurt her she would not see him suffer at her hands and she needed to let it go as much for her own sake as for his. She knew that with forgiveness would come freedom – the freedom for both of them to walk away from each other once and for all and move on with their lives. She sighed as she rinsed, turned off the tap and squeezed the excess water from her hair. Regarding her reflection solemnly, she towel dried her hair, combed it through and slipped on her clothes, all the while mentally preparing herself for what would be her last meeting with the man who despite it all, she still loved. 

 

As she walked slowly down the stairs on shaky legs she saw that he had not moved from the spot where she had left him. When she reached the bottom of the staircase she glanced at him nervously but his face was unreadable. She padded through to the lounge room and flicked on the table lamp, curling up on an armchair and crossing her arms defensively. Her gaze was lowered, her still damp hair partly obscuring her face. Petyr sat down across from her on the couch, his long slender fingers fidgeting. She heard him take a deep breath before his voice lilted soft and low.  
“Sansa. I know that you hate me and you’re frightened of me. You have every right to feel that way. I am not going to make excuses because there is no excuse for what I did. Only know that I will do anything, anything if you can somehow find it in your heart to forgive me. Please, won’t you look at me now?”  
“I have already forgiven you Petyr,” she said tremulously, her eyes lifting to meet his.  
He stared at her astonished. “You have?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that. I never really expected you to. I hoped for it but I didn’t really believe you would.”

 

“I know why you did it. You loved me. I told you that I loved you and only you and that Harry meant nothing to me. You had finally convinced yourself that perhaps there was a chance for us after doubting me, doubting yourself for so long and then you saw those pictures. It must have been devastating to you. I am so sorry for how hurt you must be right now. I should have listened to you and I should never have gone to see Harry or I should have allowed you to come with me. I know nothing I say will change how you feel about me now.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I know you hate me for what happened and I will never be able to convince you that you are the one I love, not Harry.”  
“You still love me?” asked Petyr incredulously.  
“Of course. That will never change. But I understand how you feel about me.”  
“I don’t hate you, Sansa. I could never hate you. And I know now how wrong I was about the two of you. Harry set me straight on the phone earlier. He also told me that he knows about us.” Sansa stared at him but did not reply.

 

Petyr stood and moved towards her kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his.  
“I’ve been such a fool. I thought you had thrown me over for him. I should have trusted you but when I saw those photos with his arms around you and kissing you something inside me snapped. All reason left me and my old insecurities and fears took over. At that moment I felt like I had been kidding myself all along. How could you possibly want me when you have him?”  
“Oh Petyr,” she whispered, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “I told you so many times that I only want you. I don’t know what else I could possibly have said or done to convince you.”

 

“Do you still want to convince me?”  
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. You really hurt me tonight. I have forgiven you but I don’t know if I’ll ever forget it.”  
She sighed deeply before continuing.  
“If I thought there was a real chance that you could let go of all of these self-doubts and you could really let me love you, then maybe, in time. But I don’t know what to do or say anymore,” she muttered.  
“There is one thing that would convince me.”  
“What?”

 

Petyr reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gift bag setting it on the coffee table.  
“I was going to give this to you that night we fought before you went to visit Harry but, as usual I ruined everything. I don’t want you to look at it now. When I’m gone I want you to open it and I want you to think about what it represents, really think. Once you are ready, I want you to come and see me. If you don’t come I will know that it was too much to ask. Can you do that?”  
Sansa eyed the gift bag warily and mumbled in reply.  
“Yes Petyr.”  
Petyr ran his fingers through her still damp hair and leaned in to kiss her but stopped short; he rose with a sharp intake of breath and without a further word, strode quickly to the front door and exited closing the door quietly behind him.

 

Sansa sat for a very long time staring at the gift bag, fighting conflicting urges to open it.  
Finally she reached for it with one trembling hand and drew it towards her. She withdrew the small jewellery box inside and fingered it nervously before flipping the lid. She gasped audibly when she gazed at the gold ring, set with a large brilliant Marquise cut diamond that glinted and twinkled as she held it to the light.

 

Oh Petyr.  
Her tears started to fall as she removed the ring from the box and began to move it towards the ring finger of her left hand. Something stopped her.

You wanted to marry me? You wanted to spend the rest of your life with me? You loved me that much and you believed in us. Now I know why those photos broke you and why you acted the way you did.  
She wept as she understood for the first time the depth of his feelings for her. But still she could not compel herself to place the ring on her finger.

But you’re so damaged Petyr. How do I know this won’t happen again? I want so badly to say ‘yes’ to you and be your wife but I don’t know if it is the best thing for you or for me. Perhaps you were right the whole time. Perhaps it would be better if we walked away from each other while we still have the chance.

Sniffling and wiping convulsively at her tears with one hand, she reluctantly replaced the ring in the box. She curled her fingers around it, squeezing it gently.

I need time. I have to think this through. I’m so confused. I love you so much but maybe love just isn’t enough anymore.


	41. An Accident

It had been almost a month since she had last seen Petyr and she was still no closer to an answer than she had been at their last meeting. More times than she could count she had opened the box and run her fingers gently over the sparkling surface of the diamond and thought about how wonderful her life could be as the wife of Petyr Baelish. But she held no illusions. She was no longer the naïve and innocent girl that she once was. She knew that even if they could by some miracle overcome the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of Petyr’s insecurities and fears their life together would not be easy, subjected as it would most certainly be to considerable scrutiny and censure. 

She knew she was strong enough to endure the disapproval of those around her but she feared for Petyr. He was a powerful businessman with considerable influence who relied on his reputation as a man of control and authority. Once it became public knowledge, their relationship would be a chink in his armour and would be exploited by those who sought to tear him down; of that she had absolutely no doubt. She also worried that as time went on and Petyr aged, his insecurities may worsen as his much younger wife came into contact with much younger men. She sighed in confusion and dejection as she sat on the couch regarding the ring for what felt like the millionth time still none the wiser as to which way she would jump.

 

The strident ringing of the phone ripped her out of her trance. She snapped the jewellery box closed and hauled herself from the couch tiredly, bringing the receiver to her ear.  
“Hello?”  
“Sansa, it’s your Aunt Lysa.”  
Oh crap  
“Hi Aunt Lysa, how are you?  
“I’m alright, thank you.”  
Sansa detected a strange tightness in the woman’s voice.  
“Is something wrong?”  
“It’s Petyr.”  
Sansa’s stomach lurched and she felt the colour drain from her face.  
“What? What’s wrong?”  
“He’s been in a car accident, Sansa. A terrible car accident.”

 

“No!” Sansa exclaimed nearly dropping the receiver in horror. “Is he…?”  
“He’s alive but it is touch and go. He lost so much blood and there were complications with his surgery because the worst injury occurred where he suffered previous blood vessel damage from his old wound. He suffered concussion, a ruptured spleen and several broken ribs as well.”  
“Oh God,” she sobbed. “When, how?”  
“It happened a few days ago. He lost control of his car and hit a tree. His blood alcohol was tested but by some miracle he wasn’t over the limit. He’s been drinking like a fish lately. It was a straight bit of road so they think it was fatigue. He hasn’t been sleeping much either so it seems the most likely answer.”  
No, this is my fault.  
“Is he conscious?”  
“He’s in and out,” Lysa replied shakily.  
“Can I come and see him?”  
“Yes, of course. That’s why I’m ringing. He’s been calling out your name in his sleep. I am still furious about what happened between the two of you but I still love him and I want him to pull through. He needs you,” she added begrudgingly. “He seems to be giving up.”  
Sansa felt a stab to her chest as she contemplated why Petyr was so despondent.  
“Thank you Aunt Lysa. I’ll catch a cab and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  
Sansa hung up and dialled the cab company, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

 

As she sat in the back seat of the cab some time later, she bit at one fingernail and fiddled with the jewellery box containing the ring which she had shoved in her jeans pocket before leaving the house.

I know what I have to do now. I don’t care what you did Petyr. I don’t care about all the things that could go wrong. I want you and I’m going to marry you. Please don’t die. Please don’t die believing that I don’t care about you anymore. 

As she walked into the hospital ward where Petyr had been taken after his surgery, she noticed Lysa sitting by one of the beds. As she neared she choked back a cry as she took in Petyr’s still and frail form. His face was littered with small cuts and one eye was blackened and swollen shut. His arms were similarly marked by cuts with dressings covering the more severe ones. Lysa looked up and regarded her with an unreadable expression.  
“Thank you for coming Sansa. I will leave you with him now,” she stated coldly.  
“Thank you Aunt Lysa.”

 

Sansa inhaled and exhaled with a tremble and sat at the chair vacated by Lysa. She felt the woman staring intently at her before exiting the ward. Once she was gone, she looked down to see an IV tube inserted into the back of Petyr’s left hand. She gingerly took hold of his right hand bringing it to her lips, her tears trickling down on to his fingers.  
“Petyr. My love. Please wake up. You need to wake up so you can put this on my finger.”  
She withdrew the ring box and placed it his hand, curling her fingers around his and squeezing gently. She ran her fingers through his hair and smoothed her hand over his brow and down his cheek before leaning in to kiss him tenderly on the lips, more tears landing on his cheek. She brushed them away then lay her head gently on his chest, listening to the slow beat of his heart.  
“Please come back to me Petyr. I love you,” she whispered. 

 

She stayed like that for some time before she felt him stir weakly beneath her. She snapped upright with a gasp as his uninjured eye slowly opened – it was glazed and unfocused.  
“Petyr. It’s me, Sansa.”  
“Sansa?” he replied groggily. “You came?” his voice rasped - little more than a whisper, tinged with fatigue.  
“Of course I came. I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier. If I had this might never have happened.”  
“It’s been so long. I thought you were not coming. I thought….”  
“I was confused Petyr. I didn’t know what to do. But when Aunt Lysa told me what happened I knew I couldn’t stay away.”  
Petyr gazed at her in pain and breathed heavily but she knew he was sedated so it was not from his injuries.  
“You came because you pitied me.”  
“What? No!?” she exclaimed.  
“You came out of a sense of obligation because of what your mother did to me in similar circumstances. You came precisely because she didn’t,” he croaked.

 

“That’s not true,” she cried. “I came because the thought of losing you made me see that being with you is all that matters to me. I don’t care about what happened before. I want you. I want to be your wife and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  
She reached for the the hand that held the box. It appeared that up until then he had not been aware of the ring box in his hand until she gently opened his fingers and removed it from him. She opened the box and withdrew the ring placing it in his hand.  
“Please Petyr. Tell me you still want me. Tell me that I haven’t killed your love for me. Please put the ring on my finger and tell me that we can be together as husband and wife.”  
Petyr looked down at the ring and then stared up at her. He took a deep shaking breath and weakly dropped the ring in Sansa’s lap.  
“I can’t Sansa,” he said shakily.  
“But why Petyr?” she cried.  
“It’s been a month. If you had really wanted me you would have come to see me before this. You are only here out of guilt or you feel obliged. You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he mumbled wearily.  
“Don’t do this Petyr. Please,” she sobbed kissing his face and lips desperately. “I need you, you need me. I can’t lose you now. Please, I’m begging you.”

 

“Sansa. You’re making things more difficult for me. Thank you for coming but I need you to go now.”  
He shivered and closed his uninjured eye turning his face away from her.  
“Petyr,” she muttered in misery. “Please, I love you. I’ll go now. But promise me that you will be okay. Get strong. Promise me,” she sniffled.  
He opened his eye and turned to face her but remained silent.  
“I will come and see you again, when you are a bit better.”  
“Don’t feel like you have to Sansa,” he replied his tone flat and devoid of emotion.  
Sansa cupped his face in her hands and stared at him, her face wet with tears before bringing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. Petyr began to return the kiss but then turned his head away once again and breathed raggedly.  
“Please go now.”  
He closed his eye and lay still, his face a perfectly blank mask. She was not sure if he was asleep or pretending to be. She rubbed the tears from her face and stood reluctantly, staring down at him.  
“I love you Petyr, more than you could possibly know. Please don’t doubt that.”  
Seeing no reaction from him she turned and left the ward, quickly farewelling Lysa in the waiting room before walking numbly out of the hospital building.


	42. A Test

It was good to be back home with his own company again after almost two weeks in the hospital. He realised that the hospital staff probably felt much the same way because in Lysa’s entirely correct assessment, he was a lousy patient. She had stayed with him after he was discharged for a couple of days to ensure that he was alright but had then departed for the Vale leaving him to his solitude. He no longer heard from Sansa which in a way was a blessing. Every time she had rung trying to speak to him, every time she left a voicemail or texted on his cell when he was in the hospital, it had been a stab to his heart. 

“Please Petyr, talk to me. Answer my calls. I’m worried about you.”

“I want to come and see you. When is a good time?”

“I love you Petyr why won’t you reply?”

On one occasion he had weakened and accepted one of her calls but he could not compel himself to speak. He had terminated the call without uttering a word, her heart breaking pleas from the other end of the line echoing in his head hours later.

 

He reclined on the divan, reading a collection of short stories not really concentrating on the content when the doorbell rang. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that it was almost 10pm – very late for visitors.

Who the hell could this be at this time of night?

He pulled open the door half-expecting and half-hoping that it would be Sansa standing on the porch but instead it was Margaery. She wore a tight cashmere blouse and a short pleated black skirt, accentuating her full breasts and shapely legs.  
“Margaery. What are you doing here? It’s late.”  
“I’m sorry, Petyr. I know it is but I rang the hospital and they told me you had been discharged a couple of days ago. I couldn’t stay away any longer.”  
Margaery regarded him with tear filled eyes and flung herself at him, her arms wrapping around him. Stunned and wincing as she made contact with his surgical wound, Petyr stood stock still and then gradually moved his arms to her waist and pushed her away gently, staring into her face.

 

“Oh,” she cried, “Did I hurt you. I’m sorry.” She took his face in her hands and drew him to her in a tender kiss, her lips full and soft. He pulled away swiftly.  
“Margaery, what are you doing?” He searched her face for any hint of duplicity, thinking this a repetition of her previous ruse, but all he detected there was longing and concern.  
“When I heard from Sansa what happened to you and that you could have died I realised how I felt about you. I-“  
“No, Margaery. Don’t say it.”  
“I can’t help it Petyr. I love you,” she cried. “I couldn’t stay away. Please don’t send me away.”  
“Margaery. What about Sansa?” he asked gently.  
“She’s gone Petyr.”  
“What do you mean she’s gone?”   
“She’s gone to be with Harry. She left when I told her that you had been discharged and once she was satisfied you would be okay. She knows that the two of you are over and she’s getting on with her life.”  
Petyr inhaled and exhaled shakily and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. Margaery grabbed at his hand and brought it to her lips.  
“Don’t be sad Petyr. I can make you happy. I know I can. If you give me a chance.”   
Her lips parted slightly as she gazed at him with pleading eyes.

 

At that moment he craved contact, any contact to assuage the emptiness he felt at his final loss of Sansa. He did not love Margaery but he needed her touch, her passion, the warmness radiating from her body to dispel the creeping coldness he felt assailing his body. Ignoring a twinge from his side at the site of his wound and abandoning all reason, he backed her up against the wall and pressed himself against her, crushing her mouth with his, parting her lips with his tongue as he explored her mouth hungrily. She moaned as his hands found her breasts, massaging them through the thin cashmere blouse she wore while his mouth kissed a trail down her throat. He pressed his body against her, eliciting a moan from her as she parted her legs to allow more contact.

 

Suddenly he came to his senses, his body freezing, his hands dropping from her as he breathed raggedly and his gaze dropped to the floor.  
“I can’t,” he heaved as his shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Margaery. That should not have happened. Fuck!” he grimaced, pushing his fingers roughly through his hair.   
“Petyr you don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t love me,” she said tremulously.  
“Margaery….” he muttered miserably.  
She reached out and placed a forefinger on his lips and gazed at him.  
“I know now you still love her – Sansa. I thought it was over between the two of you or I never would have come here like this.”   
Petyr smoothed her hair and gazed at her intently.   
“I’m so sorry. I should never have touched you. It’s wasn’t fair on you. I am an arsehole.”  
“No, don’t say that. It was all my doing,” she said tremulously  
“Come here,” he said as he drew her to him in a warm gentle embrace. She sighed as he hugged her tight with one hand and he stroked her hair until she calmed.

 

I’m sorry that I can’t be for you what you want me to be. I care about you and it pains me to think that I’ve hurt you.”  
“Don’t worry about me Petyr. I have that good old fighting Tyrell spirit, remember. I just want you to be happy; Sansa is what makes you happy. Won’t you please go and see her? She’s staying at my Grandmother’s house.”  
Petyr sighed deeply. “I will. Once I have worked out what the hell I’m going to say to her.”  
Margaery seemed to hesitate then continued.  
“There’s something you don’t know. I swore to Sansa I wouldn’t tell you but I don’t think I can keep the promise.”  
“Go on.”  
“Harry has asked her to marry him. As far as I know she hasn’t given him an answer yet. Please, if you are going to see her don’t take too long, okay?”  
Margaery leant in and kissed Petyr tenderly.   
“I hope that you can finally find a way to be together. I care about both of you.”  
“Thank you Margaery. You are a beautiful young woman. You will make some young man very lucky.”  
She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him before standing and quietly exiting the house.


	43. The Ring

The last dying rays of the sun cast a soft sepia glow over the garden and lawns of Tyrell estate as Sansa sat on her mother’s tribute bench gazing wistfully at the oak sapling, a light breeze stirring her tresses. She felt so close to her mother when she was in this place and also to Petyr although she tried not to think about him. She reclined and closed her eyes letting the birdsong and the gentle susurration of the vegetation all around waft over her.   
“The most beautiful flower on the whole estate,” a low soft voice lilted.  
“Petyr,” she gasped as her eyes snapped open, her stomach flipping.   
There he stood to the side on the garden path, his fingers woven together in front of him staring intently at her. He did not smirk; he did not smile; his eyes betrayed nothing.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“A little bird suggested that I might find you here.”  
Sansa frowned. “Margaery shouldn’t have done that.”  
“Don’t be angry with her Sansa. She only has your best interests at heart.”  
“What if seeing you is not in my best interests?” she asked more bitterly than she had intended.   
She detected a look of pain in his eyes but it was fleeting. 

 

“May I sit?”  
Sansa sighed and gestured for him to sit next to her on the bench. He walked towards her slowly as though he expected her to flee and carefully lowered himself down next to her. After some minutes of silence she spoke but she did not look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the young oak.  
“How are you Petyr? How is the injury?” she asked stiffly.  
“I’m getting there. It will take some time for it to heal completely but I was very lucky. You on the other hand. You look very pale Sansa. Are you alright?” he asked with concern.   
“I’m okay,” she said in a small voice, not daring to meet his eyes.  
Petyr took hold of her upper arms gently and turned her to face him.  
“I’ve missed you Sansa. I’ve missed you very much,” he whispered as he took a lock of her hair and smoothed it between his fingers.   
“Petyr, don’t,” she mumbled, casting her eyes downwards.  
“Am I too late?” he asked.  
“Too late for what?”   
“Have you said ‘yes’ to our young Harry?”

 

Sansa lifted her eyes to meet his but only briefly before she returned her frowning gaze to the oak tree.  
“So she told you about that too.”  
“Yes. She wants what is best for you; that is the only reason she told me.”  
“I don’t know why she would think that you are the best thing for me. What can she possibly base that on?”  
“Based on the fact that I love you very much and you love me and we are meant to be together.”  
“If that were true we would have been together some time ago but it never seems to happen, does it Petyr? You always find a way to push me aside or you walk out on me. What would be different this time? At least Harry is there for me. He loves me unconditionally and he doesn’t desert me when I need him most.”  
“I know I have hurt you my love. I know I have ruined everything time and time again. I know Harry has been there for you when I haven’t always been. But there is only one problem with marrying him.”  
“What? What do you mean?”  
“You don’t love him Sansa.” Petyr reached out his forefinger and stroked down the side of Sansa’s face. “For better or worse, you love me.”

 

Sansa moved her face away from him and took a deep trembling breath, her eyes glistening.  
“It’s not enough anymore Petyr. I don’t have any more energy for this constant push and pull between us.”  
“Things would not be like that in future, I promise you,” he said earnestly and perhaps a little desperately.   
“I’ve changed; I’m not the man I once was. I cannot say that I am a good man, but I am a better man and it is because of you.”  
“You don’t know how much I want to believe that. It is so easy for you to find the right words always, Petyr. It’s what you’re good at but I’ve heard it all before,” she sighed.  
“Things are different now. My life is not the same as it was; the things that once mattered don’t mean anything to me now.”  
“So am I to believe that you have given up on your ‘success’?”  
“No, I am not naïve enough to think that I can change who and what I am at my core. I don’t want to. I still have ambition, I still have things to prove to myself and to others. I will never stop striving.”  
“I wouldn’t want you to.”  
“I know. But what has changed is the way that I choose to get there and the kind of success that I value.”

 

Sansa turned to stare at him but made no response.  
“Before the car accident when I left you the ring I made some decisions but I never found the right time to tell you. I have sold my brothels, for one.”  
“Why, Petyr?” she asked stunned.   
“Because I knew how you felt about them.”  
“You did it for me?” she asked tremulously.  
“Yes. And more selfishly for myself because I want you to think well of me. And because I can still run successful businesses and get where I need to go without upsetting my future wife.”  
“Do you still have the restaurant?”  
“Yes. That was the next part of my plan. It is doing very well so I am planning to extend it as a chain across Westeros. I have some very good contacts in the industry so I have every confidence that it can succeed. Eventually when you are ready I want you to run the chain.”  
“What? I couldn’t possibly do that. I don’t have the knowledge or the skills.”  
“You can learn. I can teach you. Together we can make it happen. You are an intelligent, astute woman. I know that you can make it a success; we can make it a success together. Together we can do anything.”  
Sansa was momentarily lost for words at the enormity of Petyr’s gesture and his faith in her.

 

“What about Aunt Lysa?” she asked finally.  
“That was the other thing I needed to tell you. At the same time as I divested myself of the brothels I started legal proceedings to divorce Lysa.”  
“Oh. How did she take it?”  
“We had a very long talk and she knows, she has always known that I don’t love her. She has accepted that it will never change and has completely dropped any notion of taking revenge on us or making life difficult for me. We have come to an understanding that it would be in everyone’s best interests to end the marriage in as amicable a way as possible.”  
“I feel for her, Petyr. I really do. It must be hard on her,” said Sansa sincerely.   
“As I feel for Harry, because I know you do not love him and yet you would consider marrying him,” Petyr replied softly.  
“That’s unfair Petyr,” Sansa admonished. “It’s hardly the same thing. I care for him very much; in time, I could learn to love him.”  
Petyr encircled her waist with his arm.  
“You will never love him as you love me.”  
Sansa’s heart skipped a beat as Petyr leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, curling his arm more tightly around her waist. She felt the familiar sweet keening feeling through her body at his touch but raised her hands to his chest and gently but firmly pushed him away. She tried to keep her voice steady but tears threatened. 

 

“Petyr. I need to ask you a question. I want you to answer it truthfully. If you love me you won’t lie to me.”  
“You can ask me anything and I will only tell you the truth,” replied Petyr staring at her intently.  
“Do you love me enough, do you believe in yourself and us enough that you can see us together forever. I mean look 30 years down the track. Do you picture us living a happy and fulfilled life as husband and wife when you are in your seventies and I am in my forties? Do you believe in us that strongly?”

 

Petyr took some time to answer, measuring his words carefully.  
“There were times that I had so many doubts. When I first laid eyes on you, I wanted you so much. I will not deny at first it was a strong physical attraction and I believed it was wrong. You were so young and I felt as though I was taking advantage of your lack of experience with men. That first time we met in your bedroom I decided that as much as I wanted to make love to you, I would not act on it. As I began to speak to you and got to know you better I understood that it was so much more than physical. I fell in love with your strength, your intelligence, your humour, everything about you. I had never felt that way about anyone, not even your mother, and it scared me, you don’t know how much. Suddenly I began to doubt everything; I no longer knew who I was because I was completely lost in another person. I have fought so hard against letting that happen in my life. I had come to see sentimentality as a weakness, love as an illusion for fools. But you made me see that I was wrong. I know what I want from life now and I believe I deserve to have it.”   
“Do you still want everything, Petyr?”   
“Yes, I do. Because you are everything to me.”

 

“Oh Petyr,” she whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I thought you had given up.”  
“How could I give up when I know that you never have?” he asked.   
He trailed his finger down her neck and snagged it under a silver chain that disappeared under the neckline of her blouse, lifting it. Dangling on the chain and sparkling next to the mockingbird pendant was the gold solitaire diamond ring he’d given her. He stared at it for some time then looked up to meet her eyes.

 

“Sansa, I am going to leave you now. I want you to take a little time to think about what I’ve said. I want you to think about Harry and about me and about what you really want. I am staying in the same suite at the same hotel that we stayed at the last time we were together in Highgarden. Perhaps I will see you tonight but if not tonight then I can wait. I will wait for you as long as it takes. And just know that no matter what decision you make I will never stop loving you and I will always be there for you.”  
Petyr wiped gently at the tears on Sansa’s face and kissed her cheek before rising from the bench and disappearing around a bend in the garden path as he strode quickly away from her.


	44. Completion

It was almost 10pm and Petyr had resigned himself to the fact that Sansa had either decided to accept Harry’s marriage proposal or that she was unwilling or unable to make any decision that night. He changed into a light pair of cotton pyjama pants and decided a nightcap was in order, so poured himself a glass of wine before settling in on the couch. As he leaned over to grab the TV remote, a light knocking sounded on the door. Petyr’s heart skipped a beat.  
Slipping on a silk dressing gown he moved towards the door and took a deep breath before opening it.  
“Sansa.”  
“I’m sorry I came so late, Petyr. I know you probably have to get up early in the morning.”  
“Please, come in. I’m happy to see you,” he replied.

 

Petyr walked to the couch and motioned for her to join him. She hesitated for a moment then sat next to him, wringing her hands in her lap.  
“Petyr, you said a lot of things to me earlier today that I have waited a long time to hear from you. But of all the things you said the one thing that mattered to me above all else was that you want to be with me always and that you seem to be planning your life around it. You see I know you love me. I didn’t doubt that. What I doubted is that you would be able to overcome your fears and insecurities and commit yourself to me in the long term. We always had an amazing connection but we always struggled to make it last. I believe now that there may be a chance for us.”

 

“I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Please forgive me Sansa.”  
“Of course I forgive you,” she smiled.  
“Will you turn around?”  
“Why?”  
“Please will you just turn around,” he asked gently.  
She complied, feeling his fingers brush against the skin of her neck as he unclasped the silver mockingbird necklace and slipped the ring from it.  
“Will you look at me now?” 

Her heart skipped a beat and her breathing stopped as she turned to face him. He took her left hand in his.

 

“Sansa. I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you. Please say you will be my wife.” His eyes seared into her as he waited for her answer, his breathing almost undetectable.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. 

 

He took a deep breath and slipped the ring onto the ring finger of her left hand and pressed her hand to his lips.

 

Sansa could compose herself no longer and emitted a strangled sob as she threw her arms around him and wept. He hugged her fiercely and cooed soothingly in her ear. He held her chin with his long fingers and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

 

“You have made me so happy, my love,” he said as he stroked his fingers through her hair.  
“Petyr, I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner when you first gave me the ring and that you thought I didn’t want you when you were in the hospital. You must have been so upset. I never meant to hurt you,” she mumbled.  
“Hush now. Let’s not speak of it again. I don’t want my fiancé to cry any more. What can I do to make my future wife smile?” he smirked at her as he chucked her chin.  
She sniffled and smiled shyly at him, leant in close to his ear and whispered.  
“Oh you like that do you?” he chuckled.  
She nodded, grinning.  
“Come here then,” he said pulling her to her feet. “Let’s put a very big smile on that beautiful face of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are then, the ending of a very long bumpy ride. I have enjoyed writing this and reading everybody's feedback. I want to thank all of you that have stopped by and given this thing a go. Thanks for commenting and thanks for the kudos. 
> 
> NB I may decide to continue this fic at some stage but I am posting chapters on my other fic daily and have a third in the pipeline so it won't be for a while, if it happens. 
> 
> "So long and thanks for all the fish :)
> 
> Update 28 Nov 2016. I have decided to complete this off for now but there is a slight chance I will do a part 2 sometime in the future.


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